Baguette Knife and Headshot Man
by the-doktor-medic
Summary: A Spy and Sniper adventure through feelings.
1. Chapter 1

"Maggots! Tomorrow the war shall start against the BLU Team!"

It was dinner time. Engie and Pyro had made dinner for all the mercenaries who were gathered around the table. They had just arrived about a week ago and started to get their habits. They had received their weapons and had completed the basic training consisting of mastering how to handle them.

"As the Administrator said, failure will not be tolerated!"

"It's gun' tae be fine, Soldier!"

Said Demo, raising his bottle of "scrumpeh" to take a swig of it.

"Affirmative! It will be fine for we will crush the enemy!"

Soldier banged his fist on the table.

"Mmh!"

Pyro got startled.

"Calm down, Soldier, we will all do our very best and our job."

Said Engie, as he put a hand on Soldier's shoulder.

"Ja, it will only be a matter of coordination. We all know how to handle our equipment so it is a question of knowing how to communicate."

"Yeah, like the Doc' said, it's all about the communimi-comminu-uh talkin'!"

Spy rolled his eyes up. Engie nodded.

"Yeah, very well said, Sawbones!"

The door opened and the mercenaries turned their heads. Sniper entered.

"Good evening to you, Sniper."

Said Spy sarcastically.

"Mh."

The Australian growled. He headed to the fridge, got some bread, mustard and sausages. The mercenaries were used to seeing him enter come dinner time, make something for himself and leave.

"Also pardners, the battle is at 9.00am sharp tomorrow. So be on time!"

"Wait what?! Oh man that's way too early!"

Sniper opened the fridge again, put back the sliced bread and mustard. He spun on his heels and exited the kitchen.

"You are weak, Scout! Back in my day, wars were fought before we could even see the sun rise in the horizon! And for breakfast we all had but our victory to savour!"

The rest of the dinner went smoothly. Or at least as smoothly as it could. Soon, the mercenaries moved to their rooms apart from Engie who went back to his garage, followed by Pyro. Spy headed to his smoking room. He unlocked the door and entered.

"Ah, finally."

He locked the door behind him and went to pour himself a glass of wine. Red, from his hometown of Bordeaux, was his favourite. He went to his armchair and sat there, in front of the fireplace. It was the winter and it was a harsh one there. He was used to the cold, coming from France, but not to that extent! He was used to cold rain showers, very thin ones, but nothing like continuous sub-zero temperatures during the day. He took his "Dapper Cadaver" magazine and flipped through the pages, his eyes following the lines of printed characters, gliding on the snow white pages, skiing on the black letters. He enjoyed the dark beverage in front of the fire. The crackling noise of the wood being devoured by the flames, their reflection on the glass he was holding, he found it all quite cosy despite the harshness of the freezing temperatures outside.

He kept on reading his magazine. Articles about men's fashion for that winter season, ideas of recipes for the upcoming Christmas…

Spy grimaced. Christmas was in more than a month! Did anyone need Christmas related things that early?! He sighed. He hated Christmas. A season of fake niceness from everyone. He pulled back his nose and stuck his tongue out in disgust.

_Bleh_.

He took a quick sip of wine to wash the taste of it all away. The dark red liquid spread on his tongue and enveloped it like a bittersweet hug. Slightly acidic at first and on the tip of the tongue but the flavour of the oak it was kept in, and the rich earth the grapes had all grown in diffused to his mouth, palate and even his nose. He could smell the vineyards and closing his eyes, he could see them. Rows of neatly ordered light green vines with shiny grapes hanging generously off each couple branches. The sun of the South-West of France slowly roasting them to slowly turn them from light green to dark violet. The frequent rain to water them and bring them the hydration they need to grow juicy. And the smell of the earth after the rain. He smiled and sighed. He missed his home. Maybe.

He opened his eyes again and looked back at his magazine. More recipes, desserts, cakes… His smile vanished. Spy was not a sweet person, in any meaning of the word. He did not like sweet things and was never described as a sweet person to interact with. Of course he could fake it and countless times, he did.

His eyes went to the fireplace.

How many times did he have to pretend he was the sweet sort of a man? Nearly as many as the ladies he seduced, which in fairness was a fairly big number. Only a few of them was he really charmed by. Well, only one, really.

He shook his head and looked down at his magazine. He flipped the page.

Dating tips, your winter will be far from lonely!

He smirked.

Ha! As if some petty journalist could give him any advice on that! Spy rolled his eyes up. The amount of nonsensical, sensational and idiotic content newspapers had to come up with to keep their readers was beyond him. And it was certainly going downhill! He remembered when he started his career, there was much less things of that nature! Men did not need "tips" on how to get a lady, they needed "guts"! But the new generation now was all soft and sensitive…!

His eyes went back to the magazine and the title of that article.

Dating tips, your winter will be far from lonely!

He sighed and looked at his nearly empty glass. His winter was going to be lonely. Infinitely more lonely than the previous one and no doubt, infinitely less so than the next.

"Meow."

He looked down and smiled. His cat, Perle, was mewling at him. He tapped his lap and she jumped on it.

"Bonsoir, Perle."

[Good evening Pearl.]

The cat turned and laid comfortably there, facing her owner. Her big blue eyes looking up at him. Perle was the reason he sometimes did not go insane. The thought of her would bring him back to reason when his mind would shoot him to insanity. He put the magazine aside and removed his black velvet gloves. He pulled his mask off and threw them all on the other armchair, the one that was always empty.

"Comment vas-tu ma chère amie, hm?"

[How are you my dear friend, hm?]

Spy was not a sweet person to men and women. But animals were something else. There were times when he wished that Perle could speak. He loved her company. Everything was so simple with her.

He put his hand on her back and stroked her. She was one of those cats with long and fluffy hair and she was all snow white. He loved the feeling of losing his fingers on her back. And she loved it too, as she started purring.

He carded his hand through his hair quickly.

"Demain, j'aurai du travail, j'en ai peur. Mais je te ramènerai quelque chose le soir, d'accord?"

[Tomorrow, I will have work to do I'm afraid. But I will try and bring something for you in the evening, ok?]

Perle meowed and Spy smiled. He scratched the top of her head lightly. He looked up at the clock. Time to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Spy had woken up quite early. He was sipping his coffee in his smoking room. He effectively had half a floor of the building for himself. In there, he had a smoking room with everything to survive without having to go to the kitchen too often. He also had a bathroom and a bedroom.

He was taking sips of his coffee while going back and forth between his bedroom and the smoking room. Taking the long mirror he had in his bedroom, Spy put it in a corner of his smoking room. He gathered his clothes and started to get changed. The Frenchman first got undressed and started putting his shirt on, standing in front of the mirror to button it up. He took a sip of his coffee and put his trousers on, put the shirt inside and zipped his fly up. He looked at himself in the mirror for an instant, while taking another sip of his coffee. Spy then grabbed his tie and curled it around his neck. He straightened his back and tied it neatly. He took a few more seconds to adjust it and finished with his vest.

Perle sat on his armchair and meowed.

"Une minute, j'arrive."

[Give me a minute, I'm coming.]

He finished doing the buttons of his vest and went to sit on his armchair. He delicately took Perle in his hands, sat down and put her on his lap. He stroked her while finishing his coffee. He stared at her.

"Qu'est-ce que je ferais sans toi?"

[What would I do without you?]

She stood up on her two back legs, on Spy's lap, and put her front paws on his upper chest. The reflection of the morning light on her silver collar blinded him for an instant. She brushed her head on the Frenchman's mouth. He smiled and left a soft quick kiss, closing his eyes, as he appreciated the softness of her fur.

"Oui, tu vas me manquer aussi mais j'ai du travail, ma petite."

[Yes, I will miss you too but I have work to do, my little one.]

"Meow?"

He put a hand on her back and scratched it. She meowed again, feeling that her owner had to go.

"Je suis désolée ma chérie."

[I'm sorry sweetie.]

He took her in his arms and got off the armchair. He dropped her back on it, delicately. Spy then went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. A moment later he came back to the smoking room and went to the door. He took his jacket off the coat hanger and put it on, along with the mask and his gloves.

"Oh, j'allais oublier."

[Oh, I nearly forgot.]

He went to the window. Well, window was a big word. Spy's floor was between the ground and half under it. So he had a few wide but thin strips of glass on one wall of his smoking room. He raised himself to the tips of his toes and reached for the latch. He pulled it and the thin window opened.

"Voilà, tu peux sortir."

[There you go, you can go out if you want.]

She meowed in thanks and he exited the flat.

\-- Battlefield --

"MISSION BEGINS IN THIRTY SECONDS"

"We go together Doktor!"

The German doctor smiled devilishly behind Heavy.

"Give them hell boys!"

All the RED team was ready for the gates of the BLU spawn to open.

"Alrighty then pardners!"

Engie was leaning on his sentry gun. Spy looked around him. Pyro was standing faithfully next to Engineer to deter the enemy Spy from sapping the labourer's equipment. Soldier had rocket jumped on the fence, to get a better view of the battle field. Demo was standing next to the Engineer to refill his stock of sticky bombs as he had laid all of them around the gates. Heavy and Medic were next to the payload and the medigun shone fiercely with electric discharges, as the übercharge was ready. Spy's eyes travelled behind them and he saw the ever so solitary Sniper, heavily dressed, crouching and aiming at one of the gates. Coming from Australia, the man surely was the least prepared mercenary when it came to freezing temperatures.

"5… 4… 3… 2…"

Scout drank his bonk soda.

"1… BEGIN!"

Loud sirens echoed across the cold landscape of Snowycoast as the gates slid open.

"Have at'em laaaaads!"

The first ones to come out were the BLU Heavy and Medic.

Boom!

Demo made all his stickies explode but the enemy doctor had popped his uber.

"Raus! Raus!"

Spy cloaked and disguised as the BLU Sniper. The rest of the BLU team exited the spawn apart from the said Sniper who tried to take down his counterpart. Spy was counting down to know when the enemy Medic's übercharge would stop to backstab him. But the blue laser from the Sniper prevented him from jumping at the German's back. He needed to make a decision quickly. Either risk it all, jump and try to get to the Doctor's back, hoping that the Sniper would not fire at that moment, or stay behind and wait some more…

Spy was sweating, he looked around. The BLU had lost their pyro and the RED, their sentry. Engie was trying to run back, under Pyro and Demo's cover.

Merde, their Pyro will spawn any second and I'm standing next to the gate… Should I risk it anyway?

The übercharge from the BLU Medic was blinking.

Merde!

The BLU Pyro respawned and saw his colleague Sniper in spawn. As he went through the gate, he saw another BLU Sniper leap from the wall to Medic's back and understood instantly.

"MMPHH!"

He pressed the handle on his flamethrower and the RED Spy gritted his teeth. He saw himself extend his arm in slow motion, his blade shining.

Come on!

The blade slowly and smoothly entered the BLU Medic's back, like a thread cutting through soft butter. But Spy knew he would feel his flesh burn any second…!

BOOM!

"MMPHH!"

"ACH!"

BOOM!

"ARGH!"

The BLU Medic collapsed, Spy spun on his heels and jumped back as his disguise faded away. He put a hand in his inside pocket to get his revolver and try to gun the Pyro down while trying to evade the BLU Sniper's line of sight.

"Oh."

The BLU Pyro's corpse was on the ground and as Spy turned to put a bullet in the BLU Sniper's skull, he saw that a much bigger bullet than his revolver's was already there. His jaw dropped.

"You killed doktor!"

Spy gasped as he realised that the BLU Heavy's mind was now set to kill him. He turned as the Russian man revved his gun and started firing. Spy ran and shot a first bullet.

BAM!

Some of Heavy's bullets made their way to Spy's chest and arm. Closing one eye, Spy aimed again.

BAM!

The Russian man dropped his gun and collapsed. Spy continued to run and switched on his invisibility watch to escape unseen. The battle kept on going while the Frenchman went behind his own teammates, searching for a health kit. He finally found one and collapsed on it. He took a few seconds to heal up, breathe and went back to work.

\-- RED Base --

"Right fellas, the Admin sent us some papers and said each one of you should have a copy, so there y'all go…"

Engie went around the dinner table and gave each of his colleagues a copy.

"Wait, what's all this? Endless numbers!"

"Scout, it's everyone's stats. It says the number of kills, assists and deaths you did and went through and it has a reference number. As y'all know, our combat sessions are recorded by lotsa' cameras. This number there allows ya to check on the footage, if you wanted to. You just need to go to the meetin' room upstairs and put that number in the computer. Does that make sense for everyone?"

"Ja."

"Da."

The rest of the mercenaries present around the table nodded. The door opened.

"Ah, Sniper, there you go."

Engie handed him the piece of paper. The Australian nodded, took his report and made another sandwich while the rest of the mercenaries dealt with their dirty dishes.

\-- Spy's smoking room --

The Frenchman unlocked his door and entered. He had brought some cat treats he had ordered.

"Perle? J'ai une surprise pour toi."

[Pearl? I have a surprise for you.]

He shook the box a couple of times but heard no answer from his feline friend. He shrugged and removed his jacket to put it on the coat hanger. He got shivers. His room had considerably cooled down because of the open window. He went on the tip of his toes and closed it. He then put the report he was holding on the small table next to his armchair.

_J'ai besoin d'une bonne douche, bien chaude._

[_I need a good hot shower.]_

He exited the bathroom a few minutes later and poured himself a glass of wine. As usual he sat on his armchair and watched the flames. Spy took a sip and put the glass on the small table. When he took it again, a paper came with him.

"Argh!"

The report had stuck to the glass and a dark red circular stain was now on it. He delicately unstuck it and read it.

"Kills: 6

Assists: 1

Deaths: 3"

He read the whole report carefully while reminding himself of what happened and in what order it did happen.

1 Assist on enemy Heavy.

Assist?! He had gunned him down with 2 bullets from his Ambassador to the skull! It was a kill, not an assist!

He frowned and put his fingers on his eyes to rub them. Well, there's one way to be sure of it. He took his jacket and exited his flat. He climbed the stairs quickly yet silently. He arrived in the meeting room and closed the door behind him, locking it. The room was freezing cold, he looked around to see if there was any window he could shut, but to no avail.

"Merde…"

He wrapped his arms around himself, straightening his jacket collar around his neck and sighed. He looked around and got busy. Spy was not well versed in the art of computer science but certainly that big button would be useful to switch the machine on. And so he pressed it. The screen switched on and in a couple minutes, he accessed the footage of the day's session. He watched carefully and switched from one camera to the other to get a better view of what had happened around him. He saw himself leaping at the BLU Medic while the Pyro behind him brandished his flamethrower. In an instant, the latter collapsed to the ground and his Sniper colleague met the same fate. Spy opened wide eyes. It all happened too quickly for him to understand! He removed his hands from his collar and laid them flat on the keyboard. He found out how to rewind the movie and watched it again and again, frame by frame until he noticed a small saturated pixel on the image, travelling from the bottom left corner of the screen to the Pyro's head. He hit pause and switched cameras to understand what was actually reflecting the light at that camera to make those few pixels go white.

_Mon Dieu, c'est Sniper…_

[_My God, it's Sniper…]_

He went back again and squinted slightly to look at Sniper.

_Oh… C'est lui qui m'a sauvé… Deux fois! Et très jolis tirs en plus!_

[_Oh… It's him who saved me… Twice! And very good shots at that!]_

He played the record again, looking for the moment where he confronted the enemy Heavy.

_Ah, voilà._

He bent forward slightly to focus on what was happening on the screen. As the Heavy was turning to face him, Spy saw the same couple of white pixels again but this time, they went to the giant's arm. The Frenchman leant back on the chair.

_Ah, voilà donc ce qui s'est passé!__[So that's what happened!]_

He had his answer but kept on watching the bullet scratch his enemy's arm again and again.

_Eh bien je t'en foutrais des tireurs de précision!__[So much for a sharpshooter!]_

He switched everything off and went back to his suite.

**_\--Author's notes --_**

Thanks for reading! :D

Stay tunes for Chapter 3! ;)


	3. Chapter 3

A couple days had passed and the team started to coordinate their efforts better on the battlefield.

Spy had just come home and was thinking while showering. He remembered how his sapping of the sentry, synchronised with the powerful push from the übered Medic and Demo flipped the situation dramatically earlier. He stopped the shower and smiled to himself. All it had taken was a couple words of communication. It had proved decisive, especially on the last capture point where not one but two Engineers had set up their sentries. All Spy had needed was a distraction and Scout, equipped with his Bonk, had obliged. As much as Spy found the boy immature, he had to admit that thanks to him, he manage to sap and backstab both Engineers easily.

Spy exited the bathroom only wearing a gown and went to the smoking room. He looked down at Perle's bowl of food and saw that it was still full. He took the pack of treats and shook it again.

"Perle?"

He waited and pricked his ears up. Silence.

"Perle, tu es là?"

[Perle are you here somewhere?]

Silence still. He frowned and went to his bedroom. He had meant to wear his pyjamas and spend the evening there but he started to worry for his cat. He thus put on a suit, his mask and gloves and exited his flat to look for his feline friend.

He went to the kitchen, looked around, crossed the threshold to the living room and saw Demo and Soldier fight over the TV remote. He sighed and rolled his eyes up. He left to have a look in the bathroom, even though he did not really expect her to go there. Still no trace of her. Spy stopped walking in the base and pondered for a while.

_Elle ne peut pas être dans une des chambres, elle ne se laisse jamais approcher par quelqu'un d'autre que moi… Et.. Elle…_

[She can't be in one of the rooms, she doesn't let anyone get close to her apart from me… Or… Well, her...]

His mind escaped to the thought of that woman. He put his fingers on his eyes and rubbed them, frowning. It did still hurt.

"Hey, Spy! What're you doin' here? Lookin' to finally take a shower?"

Scout's melodious voice broke the Frenchman's train of thought. His eyes snapped open and he looked at the younger man from above, a clear look of annoyance on his face. He sighed, rolled his eyes up again and left.

_Mais où est-ce qu'elle peut bien être…?_

[Where the hell can she be…?]

He took the stairs down. He was about to open his door when he thought of something. He couldn't afford to let the window open for Perle to come back, or his flat and him inside would turn into an ice cave.

_Merde. Comment va-t-elle rentrer alors?_

[Shit. How will she be able to come back home then?]

He wondered, stood in front of his door, his hand on the doorknob when he got an idea. He turned and went down a level lower. He coughed as he entered a spacious workshop.

"Ahem. Engineer?"

"Mmh!"

Spy's eyebrows jumped as he got greeted by Pyro.

"Bonsoir Pyro. I am looking for Engineer. Is he here?"

Pyro nodded. He raised his index finger as if to ask Spy for a minute. The Frenchman nodded in thanks. He put a hand in his vest pocket and got his silver case out. He opened it with the tips of his gloved fingers and elegantly took a cigarette.

Clap.

He closed the case and put it back where it always was. He looked up and saw that Pyro was still away. He sighed and lit his cigarette. Spy took a first long drag on it and puffed the air slowly out of his mouth. Through the wreaths of slowly dancing smoke, he exhaled his loneliness and nostalgia. He regretted his time with that lady his thought were still busy with. He wished he could feel all that again. The warmth, both physical and in the heart, the feeling of knowing someone is waiting for you when you come, the feeling of knowing someone cares…

"Oh hey Spah! What can I do for ya?"

"I would like to ask for a small favour if you have the time that is."

"Yeah, sure, what is it?"

Spy didn't know where to start. He took a second to gather his words in English and then said.

"I… I own a cat, you see. And a couple days ago, she went missing."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thanks. I usually leave the window open for her to come and go as she pleases but in this frightful weather, I would rather keep my windows shut."

"Ah, yeah, it's terribly cold."

"Indeed. So I would like to ask you to build a cat door on my front door as well as the front door at the base."

"Oh, I see."

"Would you be able to do that? I can provide help if necessary."

The short Texan man opened wide eyes behind his goggles. He was surprised that Spy would accept to help him build anything and thought the Frenchman was saying it out of politeness.

"Well, o'course I can but erm…"

"Would you require anything in particular?"

"Nah, it's gonna be alright, I have all I need here but I'm not against you givin' me a hand, pardner!"

"Fine."

Spy removed his jacket and undid the buttons on his cuffs. He rolled up his sleeves.

"So, where do we start?"

Engie turned to grab some tools and put them in a box. He put a hand on his bald head.

"I thought you were kidding when you said you'd help!"

Spy raised an eyebrow.

"Of course not. I seldom make jokes."

Engie finished collecting what he needed and turned to face Spy.

"Ah, it's true. But in any case, I won't need your help."

"Are you sure?"

Engineer put his gloved hand on his colleague's shoulder. Spy pulled his nose slightly, grimacing.

"Uh, sorry."

He removed his hand and Spy brushed his shoulder with his glove. He unrolled his sleeves, did the buttons on his cuffs again and put on his jacket.

"But yeah, I'll start with your door and then I'll get busy on the front one. Pyro? Come along pardner, we've got some work to do!"

Pyro clapped his hands excitedly and followed the Texan.

"Many thanks."

"Don't mention it! And good luck to find your cat again."

"You didn't happen to see her by any chance?"

Pyro shook his head.

"What's she like?"

"White, with long hair and blue eyes. She wears a silver collar with her name."

"Nah, sorry, Spah. But if we see her, we'll let you know."

Spy adjusted his collar and nodded in thanks. He left the workshop, followed by his 2 colleagues. They stopped half-way up on the stairs.

"Uhm, I'll need you to open your door and keep it open."

Spy was visibly annoyed but understood he didn't have much choice. He put a hand in his pocket and unlocked his door.

"Thanks."

"De rien."

Engie knelt on the door and started taking some measures, mumbling to himself and to Pyro. Spy stood for an instant and reckoned he should leave them working. He slipped in his smoking room, quickly grabbed a scarf and his coat and exited the base.

He stood outside, despite the cold and lit a cigarette. The night was very calm. The only noise to sometimes bother him was the muffled and distant voices of Soldier, Demo and Scout who were sat in front of the TV, on the other side of the nearby window. Spy looked up. The sky was as dark as blue could get and sprinkled with white stars, glowing shyly in the unreachable distance. He liked a beautiful starry night, especially that shade of blue, the darkest that the eye could distinguish before being completely black. Last time he really took the time to look at the sky, it was after that woman had left him. As he thought about that night, it seemed that the air had a bitter taste. His stomach started aching and his tongue sat uncomfortably in his mouth, as if it was swelling and blocking his breath.

Spy shook his head and put his cigarette back between his lips. He remembered how he used to feel so much more alive, how he used to smile and laugh. He sighed and a cloud of smoke diffused from his lips to the air. Ah, during those days even the cigarettes tasted warm and sweet. Now, they were acidic and burning his trachea and nose. But he liked feeling that pain. He much preferred it over the pain that he had since felt everywhere else in his body, in his heart in particular.

He raised his eyes and adjusted his position, leaning on the wall, shifting his body weight from one leg to the other. He saw a small window with lights and blinked a couple times.

_Ah, le camping car de Sniper._

[Ah, Sniper's van.]

He stared at it for a while. Sometimes he'd see the silhouette of the marksman going right or left. It occupied his thought for a while.

_Je pourrais aller et le remercier pour l'autre jour, pour m'avoir éviter de brûler ou de me retrouver avec une balle dans le crâne… Mais il est tard, et il ne faisait que son travail. Et puis la balle dans l'épaule du Heavy, quelle blague!_

[I could go and thank him for that other day, for saving me from burning or having a bullet lodged in my skull… But it is late, and he was only doing his job. And that bullet in the BLU Heavy's shoulder, what a joke!]

Spy took another drag of his cigarette and shook his head. He raised an eyebrow and smiled with disdain, because that was the only smile he was capable of doing now. Disdain, contempt, pride. The other occasions when he could actually produce a smile that was genuine was when he was with Perle. She understood him so well. When his bed had suddenly emptied and he spent long nights alone, unable to sleep, she was the one to jump on it and stay awake with him until he fell asleep, her big blue eyes glowing shyly in the dark. That cat was a blessing for him. It was a rescue. He had got her even before meeting that woman. He had found her skinny, dirty and aggressive. He knew that all she needed was someone taking care of her, showing her that there was not only evil in this world. And so he did, and now, she was gone too. He took a deep breath and sighed. He had finished his cigarette. He crushed it on the wall next to him and threw it on the ground.

Spy crossed his arms and thought of his cat until the front door next to him opened and broke his train of thought.

"Oh, hey Spah, you can go back to you room before you completely freeze! We finished there. We're gonna work on this one now."

"Merci."

The Frenchman headed for his suite. He looked at the door and indeed, Engie and Pyro had done a good job. There was even a piece of dark red cloth in front of the cat door, matching with its colour. The Texan had thought that Spy would not like to have a bit of his room visible to everyone so he had put that cloth, to still keep the Frenchman's privacy. Spy opened his door and entered. It was now quite late and he needed to sleep.

**_\-- Author's notes --_**As always thanks!

Also, comments are greatly appreciated! :D

See y'all around for Chapter 4 :)


	4. Chapter 4

Another day, another battle session. Spy had hardly slept. The loneliness turned into an obsession for him and he was now in a paradoxical situation. He craved to have as much as a conversation with someone but he couldn't stand the idea of talking to any of his colleagues. He thought about them, one by one, eliminating them for any reason.

_Médic? Weird._

_Heavy? Always with Médic, so weird as well._

_S__oldier? Demo? Scout?_

He gagged at the thought.

_Pyro? Engie?_

He pondered for a while as he was running across the battlefield, invisible. He reached for Engie's dispenser and uncloaked.

_Pyro, non. Engie…?_

He thought about the cat door and the cloth on it. Clearly both men didn't interact that much but there seemed to be a strong mutual respect between them.

Spy shook his head as he reloaded his revolver. Non. As much as he respected the labourer, he was already very good friends with Pyro and the Frenchman thought it would be weird for him to step in. He thanked his Texan colleague and ran back to the front, invisible.

The day's session had proved terrible for Spy. The lack of sleep had made him useless. Missed backstabs and bad shots. He gritted his teeth in rage after yet another respawn. But the Administrator soon announced the end of the match and RED's defeat.

\-- RED Base --

The mercenaries did not seem as unhappy as the Frenchman. He headed for his room.

"Spy?"

He stopped walking. He was about half-way through the corridor and about to take the steps down. He turned.

"When you have a minute, come t'me van. I got some'in for ya."

Spy nodded and went to his room. It did puzzle him.

_Qu'est-ce qu'il me veut lui aussi? Comme si je n'avais pas assez de problème comme ça.__[What does he want from me? As if I didn't have enough problems as it were.]_

He slammed the door of his suite shut. He took a long and cold shower, to shake what little life remained in him and get his blood flowing a bit. He changed into a clean suit and while doing his tie, he stared at himself in the mirror. Something reflected the light of his lamp on the mirror, and then directly in his eye. He turned around and released his grip on the silk tie.

_Merde, elle est toujours là.__[Shit, she's still there.]_

It was a framed picture of him and that woman. He walked to it and grabbed it angrily.

"Pourquoi tu me regardes comme ça, hein? Tu n'en as pas assez de me faire souffrir? Tu ne te lasses pas?! Tu n'es pas fatiguée!?"

["Why do you stare at me like that, hm? You haven't had enough of making me suffer like that? Are you not fed up?! Are you not tired?!"]

The mute picture of him and her smile made him sick. He stared at it, feeling something boiling inside. It was boiling and rising, like milk that you leave too long in a pan on the stove.

"Pourquoi tu t'acharnes?!"

["Why do you stay and harass me?!""]

He was now shouting and breathed louder. He heard her answer in his head, she spoke in a very calm voice

_C'est toi qui me gardes, imbécile.__[It's you who are keeping me, moron.]_

He frowned and gritted his teeth. His lips trembled and his knees were going weak.

_Pourquoi tu me gardes? Je te manque peut-être?__[Why do you keep me? Perhaps you miss me?]_

"AAAAARGH!"

In a fit of rage, Spy threw the framed picture at the fireplace. It shattered to smithereens. The clinging noise it made was relieving for him. He broke something outside him to mend something inside. He stared at the flames as they slowly devoured the picture. He came closer to the fireplace and knelt down to watch it. Everything around him had disappeared for those couple minutes which seemed like eternity for him. He didn't know if he was relieved or even more pained. He watched silently and held his breath as the bright orange flames danced on the picture, gnawing on it. The edges turned black and the dark consumed the picture from the edges to the center, slowly, as it did the poor man's soul. The flames came to her. He stared as every inch of her face turned black, the paper twisting slightly under the flames as if it was begging Spy to have mercy. He had none. He watched gravely as the remaining evidence of his biggest mistake yet disappeared with a soft crackling noise that stung his ears sharply, like a millions thin needles.

_Elle est partie, elle ne reviendra pas, je ne la reverrai plus.__[She's gone, she will not come back, I will not see her ever again.]_

Silence fell in the room and suddenly, Spy breathed loudly and quickly. He had spent the past minutes holding his breath and his body could not bear it anymore. He took a minute to catch his breath and blink repeatedly, as if he was waking up from a nightmare. He looked around him.

No one.

It's in those moments that he missed Perle the most. He would have talked to her and it would have helped. He turned his head and looked in the mirror. His tie was still around his neck and still undone.

_Pourquoi je mettais ma cravate…? Ah oui, Sniper.__[Why was I putting on a tie again…? Ah yes, Sniper.]_

He put a hand on the floor and the other on his knee and pushed himself to stand up. Spy finished dressing up and took his scarf and coat. He opened his door to exit his suite.

"Oh?"

"Ah, sorry Spah, are you alright?"

As soon as he had opened the door, he stumbled upon Engie who was right behind it. Spy opened wide surprised eyes.

"Sorry, pardner, I just heard a shout and I thought I might come to check if you were alright?"

Spy exhaled from his nose and closed his eyes for a split second.

"Oui, I'm fine. Thank you."

Engie clearly saw that his colleague was lying but did not push. He looked up at him.

"Ah, alrighty then, sorry for botherin' ya."

Spy nodded, he turned to lock his door and made his way to Sniper's van. He climbed the few steps to the corridor up, crossed it and heard some of his colleagues arguing in front of the TV again. He soon faced the front door and saw the cat door at the bottom of it. It hurt him physically for a second. He frowned and opened the door.

Sniper had parked quite close to the base so Spy did not have to bear with the cold for too long before reaching it. As he arrived he looked up at the roof. An owl was perched there and looking at him with big round eyes. Spy's eyes went down again, at the van's backdoor in front of him and knocked.

"Come in!"

Spy put his hand on the handle and turned. He entered the van. He was surprised as it definitely looked more spacious on the inside. The decoration was not what he himself would have put but it felt like home and corresponded with what he knew of Sniper. The man was simple. Spy's eyes scanned the van in the blink of an eye and he saw everything, the framed pictures of Sniper with his parents, the couple kukris hung on the wall, the unwashed dishes and the bed undone. He looked up at his colleague and realised that it was one of the first times he saw him without his hat or his glasses. The Australian was taller than him, his skin was also slightly darker and showed the lines of someone who stands in the sun for long. He was not well shaved but his beard was very short.

_Une barbe de 3 jours._

A 3-day beard as they say in French with quite unique sideburns. Spy had never seen anyone wear those ones before his colleague. They were completely out of his kind of fashion but somehow suited Sniper. His eyes were blue but much darker than Spy and they had laughter lines at the corner. The Frenchman thought that his colleague was only a couple years younger than himself. He looked at his hair and saw that the Australian had brown hair which slightly turned towards lighter brown, almost ginger under the room's main light. But no grey or white hair, not even on the temples. Definitely younger than Spy...

"Evenin' mate, shut the door behind you, would ya? It's hard enough to keep it warm."

Spy nodded and obeyed. He unrolled the scarf around his mouth and looked up at Sniper, who was about a foot taller than him.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, uhm uh…"

The Australian didn't know how to start his sentence. He put a hand on the back of his neck and scratched it nervously.

"Well? I don't have all day."

Sniper raised his index and turned his back. He went to his bed and soon came back.

"Perle?!"

The Australian was carrying the white cat in his arms. Spy jumped forward and took her in his.

"How did you find her?! I've been looking for her for days!"

The cat meowed and purred as the Frenchman stroked her excitedly as if to make sure that he was not dreaming.

"Well, she found me a couple days ago. I had left my window open during the day and she must have jumped in. When I came back after work, I found her on me bed."

Spy was overjoyed he found his companion again.

"Tu m'as fait une de ces peurs…! Ne me refais jamais ça s'il te plaît, tu entends? J'étais mort d'inquiétude!"

["You scared me so much…! Don't ever do that again, please, do you hear me? I was dead worried!"]

Sniper smiled. He had no idea what Spy had just said meant but he certainly looked delighted to have found his cat again.

"She went away the next day but kept on comin' back. I fed her what I could, thinkin' that she'd eventually go back to wherever she came from."

"How did you know she is mine?"

Sniper raised an eyebrow.

"Who would own such a fluffy snow white cat? A cross between a Maine Coon and a Persian! No offense mate, but it could only be you!"

"Wait, you know her breed?"

"Yeah, pretty obvious if you ask me. Must have cost you a fortune. Those are about as expensive as you can get for white cats."

Spy was impressed at Sniper's knowledge. He himself did not know Perle's breed.

"I didn't have to pay a single cent for her."

"Whot?"

"I rescued her when she was but a very young kitten. I actually did not know her breed until today. Merci."

"Oh…"

"Also, if she costs as much as you say, I have now the absolute certainty that on top of being the most evil and cruel people, Perle's previous owners were also absolutely stupid. Such people disgust me. Who would abandon such a lovely lady?"

It surprised Sniper. He was sure that Spy was one of those idiots who thought that having money allowed them to behave inhumanely. But no. It turned out the snobbish man in the suit had a heart, somewhere.

"Also, I looked at her neck and the collar says 'Perlee'...?"

"Perle."

Spy corrected.

"It means 'pearl' in English."

"Ah, yes, 'Perle'."

Sniper made an effort for the hard French 'r' in the cat's name which distorted his face humorously and without realising it, Spy nodded in appreciation.

"And yeah, that didn't sound very English as a name. Didn't look German or Russian either. Also I realised the collar was made of actual silver and the engravin' of her name is quite stylish."

"Thank you."

Sniper opened wide eyes and pointed at it.

"You did that?"

Spy nodded.

"Oh, blimey, you got some talent there, mate."

The Frenchman smiled.

"Well, thank you for taking care of her for these past few days. I hope she was not too much of an inconvenience."

Sniper raised his hand.

"Nah, not at all. She's one of those fancy cats that people like you keep indoors most the time."

"You are wrong. She comes and goes as she wishes."

"Really?"

"I would hate to deprive her of her freedom and she usually always comes back."

"Oh, alroight."

Again, Sniper got surprised. Not only did his posh colleague respect his pet to the extent of calling her a lady, but his also respected the fact that she was animal and as such, she needed her freedom.

"It's the first she doesn't come home after a day since…"

Spy stopped for a split second.

"...a long time."

Sniper understood that Spy had struck a nerve. He switched subjects to lighten the atmosphere.

"I-I like animals. I myself have a pet owl, Hootsy. That's for him I leave the window open sometimes."

"Ah, I see. Thank you."

Spy turned to exit the van but a last question occurred to him.

"Uhm, Sniper?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you hold her for a second?"

"Sure."

He came closer to the Frenchman, took Perle in his arms and scratched her head. Spy stared at his cat and without his eyes leaving her, he took a step back.

"Uhm.. Are you alroight?"

The Frenchman tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, frowning. He put his hands on his hips.

"She usually never lets anyone come near her. She didn't hiss, she didn't complain…"

He stopped talking for an instant and both heard her purring.

"And she's purring now!"

Sniper smiled.

"Yeah, well, I'm quite good with animals in general. Not so good with people though."

Spy smiled and took his cat back.

"Thank you again Sniper."

"No worries. Uhm, Spy can I ask…?"

"Hm?"

Sniper looked at Spy but his eyes were averting his gaze. He was fiddling with his fingers.

"Earlier today, you were uhm… not as good as usual… Are-are you ok?"

Sniper saw Spy's stance change in an instant. He straightened his back, his gaze hardened and he resumed a colder behaviour. He did not like the fact that Sniper clearly criticised his job and took it quite personally.

"I am perfectly fine. Good night."

The Frenchman turned on his heels, his cat in his arms, and exited the van. He went through the cold between the van and the base without rolling his scarf around his mouth. His rage and anger warmed him up enough.

**_\-- Author's notes --_**

Thanks as always! And please do leave a comment, it pushes me to keep going! :D

See you all for Chapter 5 :)


	5. Chapter 5

Spy came back to his suite and slammed the door behind him. He dropped Perle on the ground gently. She meowed.

"Assez. Tu m'as assez causé d'ennuis comme ça. Si j'étais toi, je me tiendrais à carreaux pour les prochains jours!"

[Enough. You caused me enough trouble as it is. If I were you, I would make sure I behave at least for the next few days.]

"Meow?"

Spy sighed. He removed his scarf and coat and threw them on the coat hanger. The Frenchman walked decidedly to his armchair and dropped himself on it. He looked at the bottle of wine.

_Je ne devrais pas. Et de toute façon, je suis trop fatigué pour ça.__[I should not and in any case, I am too tired for it.]_

He wanted to drown his hatred of himself in the smooth and dark embrace of wine. But he had to work the next day and he was already sleep deprived. So he decided against it. He leant back in his armchair, undid his tie and opened the first button of his shirt. He stared lazily at the orange flames in his dark red room.

"Meow?"

Perle jumped on his lap. He looked down at her, sadly.

"Pardon, je te présente mes excuses pour tout à l'heure, je me suis emporté comme un idiot. Tu n'as rien fait de mal, au contraire."

["Sorry, I do apologise for what I said earlier, I let the anger speak for me, like an idiot. You did nothing wrong, on the contrary."]

As if she was satisfied with the apologies, Perle laid on her master's lap and purred under his fingers, moving her tail slowly sometimes. She stared at him with her big blue eyes.

"Quoi?"

[What?]

"_Rrrrrrrr_"

She purred.

"Pourquoi tu me regardes comme ça?"

["Why do you stare at me like that?"]

He read her thoughts in her eyes and in her body language. The way she moved her eyelids, sometimes slowly, sometimes fast. The waves of her tail and how her long hair brushed the air.

_Tu as aimé discuter avec lui._

_[You enjoyed chatting with him.]_

He could hear her speaking in his head.

"Non."

She blinked and slightly raised her head.

_N'essaie pas de me mentir._

_[Don't try to lie to me.]_

"Je n'ai pas la tête à ça. D'ailleurs je n'ai la tête à rien du tout. Je vais me coucher."

[I don't have time or energy to play games. I don't have the time or energy to do anything. I'm going to bed.]

She jumped down and followed Spy to his bedroom. He quickly slipped into his pyjamas and laid on the bed. Perle laid next to him. The whole suite seemed lifeless and was in deep silence. In the dark blue night, the Frenchman put his hand on Perle's back. He needed to feel her there, with him. He shivered but heard her pur. It soothed his nerves. He closed his eyes and whispered.

"Merci Perle, merci beaucoup."

[Thanks Perle, thanks a lot.]

\-- _The next day, on the battlefield_ \--

Spy had slept much better. Also, he managed to find a radio station that was not broadcasting complete garbage and by that, the Frenchman meant that he had found a station that was broadcasting French songs. The talks and news sessions were held in English with a nonetheless strong French accent. It was not much but waking up to that changed him completely. He felt like another man and it changed him on the battlefield too!

"Oh, wow! Thanks pardner, I hadn't seen that snake coming!"

Spy managed to backstab the BLU Spy before he did the Engineer.

"You are an amateur and a fool!"

The Frenchman said as his BLU counterpart collapsed on the floor, a knife between his shoulder blades. Spy dusted his suit and adjusted his tie.

"Woah, someone is in a jolly good mood today, ain't ya Spah?"

The Frenchman smiled proudly.

"Now if you'll excuse me, there are still some backs to stab."

He bowed elegantly and vanished in thin air silently.

"Sentry ahead Doktor!"

"I don't have a charge yet Heavy! It shouldn't take much longer!"

Spy heard the conversation as everyone was equipped with an earpiece. He looked around to assess the situation. The BLU Engineer was standing between his sentry and his dispenser. RED were outnumbered. The BLU Demo and Soldier had gone on an impressive killstreak. Spy's eyes scanned his enemies' movements as well as his colleagues.

"READY TO CHARGE!"

"NOW DOKTOR!"

The RED Medic flipped a switch and Spy sighed in relief. Surely the Russian could take down that sentry.

"Aaaah!"

"Doktor!?"

The BLU Pyro had emerged and had blown the RED Medic away from his patient, leaving Heavy without the uber and taking the bullets from the sentry. Soon he collapsed and the RED Medic burnt to a crisp. Spy frowned. He looked behind him and saw the Demo and Solly from his team who had just respawned and were about to go in the battle.

"Wait, gentlemen, I have an idea!"

They stopped and looked around they could only see the outline of their invisible colleague.

"What?!"

"Soldier, you go at the front and distract the sentry. Demoman, hide here and wait for my signal."

"And the bloody Pyro?"

"I said wait there for my command!"

"Right."

The American rocket jumped and landed a rocket on the wall next to the sentry.

"BLU ENGIE, STOP HIDING BEHIND YOUR TOYS AN COME FIGHT LIKE A MAN!"

The BLU Texan man laughed devilishly.

Spy was crossing the map and going for the Pyro first. He was out of Engie's sight so he swiftly backstabbed him and disguised as him. He then met with the BLU Engie and stood next to the dispenser as if to refill on ammunition.

"Hey, Pyro look at that dummy shooting rockets at the sentry while I repair it."

Spy smiled and licked his lips in anticipation.

"Maybe you are the dummy?"

Engie gasped and was about to turn his back but too late. The knife was already there. Spy then quickly sapped all the equipment.

"Now Demoman!"

"FREEEEEDOOOOM!"

The Scottish cyclops sticky jumped and while in the air landed his 4 pills on the buildings which shattered in a loud buzzing and metallic clinging. Spy cloaked again and escaped, a big smile on his face. He met with the BLU Sniper. He wasn't equipped with his razorback. Spy grinned maliciously. He nonetheless noticed that there was no red dot on the wall or anywhere around the BLU Sniper.

_Merde, Sniper ne l'a pas encore vu…__[Shit, Sniper doesn't know where he is yet… ]_

The BLU sharpshooter was grinning.

"Oi, RED Snoipah, I'll give you somethin' between your two eyes, you'll think twice before crossing my sightli-aaargh!".

"You disgust me filthy jar-man."

Spy said, his nose pulled back in contempt. The BLU Sniper's corpse fell, lifeless and behind stood the RED Frenchman, proud of his accomplishment.

And for the rest of the round, it felt like he was flying over the map, untouchable, planting his knife from back to back as easily as picking flowers from a park!

The BLU team grew more and more paranoid and had switched for a strategy with not 2 but 3 Pyros.

_Ah, un défi!__[Ah, a challenge!]_

The Frenchman smirked. He watched as the payload looked like it was going through hell itself with all the flames flowing around it. Spy-checking had clearly become the number one priority for the BLUs.

"Heavy, can you get rid of those Pyros for me, s'il vous plaît?"

[Please?]

Heavy nodded.

"Behind me doctor!"

"Ja!"

The RED Heavy marched forward and revved his minigun. He started firing at the first Pyro when…

BOOM!

The Russian was hit in the skull by the BLU Sniper. Medic met the same fate as he was trying to flee the 3 flamethrowers pointed at him.

"Sniper! Top left!"

Spy shouted and thanks to the earpiece, from the other end of the map, the RED Sniper took a split second to aim and hit his counterpart, through the head. The RED trail after the bullet exited his Machina was not an issue anymore, now that the BLU Sniper was down and thus knew anyway where the RED marksman was standing.

"Thanks Spy!"

"Can you deal with the pyros too?"

"They're out of my line of sight, mate."

Sniper reloaded.

"You only have to ask!"

Spy disguised as one of the Pyros and baited them where the RED Sniper could hit them. The Australian closed one eye and held his breath.

BOOM!

The bullet flew through the air and pierced the 3 Pyros who had lined up. The first one in the head, the second in the shoulder and the last in the neck but as it was a charged Machina shot, the three of them collapsed instantly.

"Wave goodbye to yer heads, wankas!"

Shouted Sniper from his nest. Spy was flabbergasted. He stood there for a while, his eyes and mouth wide open. He trusted his colleague to take them out, yes, but not with a single bullet!

"Mon Dieu…!"

[My God…!]

He didn't have much time to rest as he saw the enemy who had respawned running at him. He cloaked and left.

\-- _RED Base_ \--

The whole team was in a great mood as they had won all their rounds on that day. Most of them were enjoying a game of cards after dinner. Sniper also had joined, even though he kept his tinted glasses on. Nobody questioned it. They had played a couple rounds of poker but soon decided to exclude Spy. His duping abilities and his excellent mood turned him into a redoubtable opponent.

"You sure you don't mind Spah?"

The Frenchman lit a cigarette and smiled.

"Not at all, do not worry, you have your fun."

"Well next time I'll bleed you dry!"

Spy smiled at his youngest colleague.

"You can but try!"

He wished his colleagues a good evening and went to his suite. He did not want to go to sleep directly. He removed his mask and gloves, his jacket too, and undid his tie. As much as he could not go anywhere without a suit and tie, he preferred the comfort of a simple shirt when he was home. He carded his hair quickly like a reflex, without thinking and turned on his radio.

_Ah, de la bonne musique…_

_[Ah, some good music…]_

The station was broadcasting some Charles Aznavour and it felt like honey to Spy's ears, who went and sat on his armchair. He already had a couple glasses of wine so he decided against having any more. He looked at the flames with a smile. They looked and felt new. It was the same fire, the same room, the same everything, but the energy diffused by the fireplace was completely different. It reminded the Frenchman of his much younger days, when it was all about enjoying life and its gifts to the full, without having much responsibilities. Where did those days go?

He leant back on the armchair and sighed. Those days were long gone but he smiled, thinking about them. He was young, much younger. Spy turned his head and looked at the mirror. His eyes stared intensely at himself and he could see it. His much longer hair, the absence of grey or white on his front tufts and temples, the lines on his skin disappeared and his skin was slightly more tanned. It was the summer in Bordeaux and the city looked its best under the sunlight and clear sky.

Lucien had a couple friends he used to spend his time with. They were roughly his age, some a bit younger and others a bit older. That summer day, he had just got out of the police station. He had been in trouble for participating in a fight club. Despite his slender silhouette, he was the most furtive of his friends and the most cunning which is why, each time he took part in a fight, his friends would put money on him. No matter the size and shape of his opponent, he would seldom lose and always outwit them.

So that day, he got out of the police station and found his friends waiting for him in front of it. He put his worn out bérêt on his head and adjusted his old jacket, looking disdainfully back at the police station. He spat on the pavement in front of it and shouted.

"Et allez vous faire foutre!"

[And go fuck yourselves!]

It was now a very well established tradition. Every couple of weeks, sometimes days even, he would get arrested for his fights. The local police knew him well and treated him like the scoundrel he was apart from one officer who would actually spend some nights chatting with him. The young Frenchman would sometimes get arrested for having drunk too much and causing trouble to the good folk of Bordeaux. He would then be put in a "cellule de dégrisement". That's the fancy French phrase for "locking you behind bars the whole night to sober up." That was when that police officer started chatting with the young man and got to know him.

But little did the police know that the young Lucien, or Lulu for his friends, was also a skilled thief! On market days, to offer something to his lady of the moment or even for himself, he would stroll through the alleys of the bustling market and in plain sight, some items would simply vanish. They were often taken off the stands but even sometimes from people's very bags, purses and pockets, especially when he was in need of money! And if the handsome young man usually got caught for fights and drinking a little bit too much, he never did when it came to stealing, may it be goods or hearts.

Spy lit a cigarette and took a drag. He blew the smoke in a circular ring and he stared lazily at it floating away with dreamy eyes. He remembered how his good looks and manners would get him into trouble too. He was the most handsome of his gang of friends and the best smooth talker of them too and a lot of ladies, mostly those who came from a much better upbringing than his, would fall for him. And it flattered him. Lucien knew that they were charmed by the young handsome man of the street, the scoundrel, the fighter, the one who would get in trouble with the law for a lady, the one who would show up with a bunch of flowers that he no doubt had stolen and a black eye. Well, he was not doing it for them at all but he would not tell them that. Non. And did it matter in the end, whether he did steal and fight for them or just for him? Of course not. Love conquests had turned to be the only challenge he had at the time because it did not just rely on him. It relied on someone else as well. The harder the lady was to get, the more he enjoyed it. Was she already in love, was she wearing an engagement ring or even married? All the better! He could not resist a good game of flirt and particularly enjoyed it when the flirting partner could rival with his smooth talk. And that's when he perfected himself in the art of lying. He mastered the art of saying incomplete truths, metaphors, poetry even sometimes and all that without having read a word about it anywhere. But that was his strength. Lucien was self-taught and everything he learnt, he was proud to say that he owed it to no-one.

"Meow?"

Perle had jumped on his lap and laid there. Spy looked at her smiling.

"Tu as passé une bonne journée?"

[Have you had good day?]

"Meow."

He stared at her and her magnificent big blue eyes and again, he read in them.

_Tu es de très bonne humeur à ce que je vois? Ca fait plaisir à voir._

_[I see you are in a very good mood? It's lovely to see.]_

She purred loudly and brushed her head against her owner's hand.

"Ah, j'allais oublier!"

[Ah, I almost forgot!]

Perle jumped out of his lap for him to stand. The Frenchman went to a cupboard and took the cat treats. The lady cat immediately understood and started meowing more and more.

"Tiens ma chérie."

[There you go sweetheart.]

Spy crouched down and fed her a couple treats directly from his hand. He looked at her and listened to the soft crunching of the brown biscuits between her white teeth. He smiled and added a couple to her bowl of food. The Frenchman stood back up, closed the pack of teats and stored it away. He went back to his sofa and enjoyed the music from his radio. It was now Françoise Hardy.

_Quelle voix, quel délice..._

_[What a voice, what a delight...]_

The Frenchman was too deeply absorbed in the music to notice Perle going out. The cat had taken a couple treats in her mouth and had silently left her master's place. She trotted through the corridor and exited the base. She saw the light in the van and the window was ajar. She elegantly jumped on the windowsill and pushed the window completely open.

"Meow?"

Sniper was washing the dishes and saw the feline appear at his window, right in front him.

"Oh, evenin' Pearl."

She dropped inside the van, on the counter, next to the tall man and sat there, watching him washing and rinsing. He smiled at her and she blinked, opened her charming blue eyes at him.

"Roight, there you go. Dishes? Done. Now…"

He wiped his hands on a tea towel and bent slightly to be at eye level with Perle. She delicately dropped the couple of treats she was carrying on the counter.

He looked at them intensely.

"Oh, you brought me a gift? That's very noice of you, mate… And that's expensive stuff eh! Thanks, Pearl."

The cat walked closer to him on the counter. She meowed a couple of times and he took one of the treats in his hand, stroking her head.

"But it's late, Ma'am. You should go back to your master before he gets too worried."

She purred under the Australian's hand.

"Actually, now that I think about it, he was awfully worried, anxious even, when you were away.".

He sat on his worn out couch. Perle jumped on the ground and then on his lap.

"He seems to care a lot about you, eh."

He scratched her head and she purred, blinking slowly.

"He said you were a rescue. Who would throw such an expensive cat on the street? Who would throw any cat in the street?!"

"_Rrrr… Rrrr… Rrrr…_ "

"I don't get it but then again, neither did he."

"Hoo?"

Sniper raised his head and saw Hootsy at his window.

"Ah! Was about bloody time you showed up! Whot time d'you call this eh?"

The bird saw the cat treats and landing on the counter, he took one. Sniper gasped. He looked at Perle, expecting her to hiss and chase the bird but no. She was looking at Sir Hootsalot, or Hootsy, very calmly. The night bird went on Sniper's shoulder.

"Oh, so those treats were for Hootsy and me?"

The owl jumped down on Sniper's lap and curled at Perle's side. The Australian smiled.

"Oh, look at you two! I would never have thought you could get along."

He scratched both their heads and felt delighted. He felt lucky, privileged even, as if he realised that he was the one amongst millions that Mother Nature had chosen. He was that one man who was so good with animals he could make a wild owl and a posh cat get along. He felt proud, forgetting for a moment that such a gift came at a dear price. He was kind and good, yes, _with animals._

With people however, he was constantly torn between two behaviours. On one hand, he was endowed with too much empathy and on the other, he had always been awkward and shy. The only times when communicating wasn't too much of an issue was on the battlefield, because then, he was talking to classes, not really to people. Earlier that day, when he got the 3 pyros with one bullet, he had talked to Spy shortly, yes. Even when he bothered going out of his nest to refill on ammunition at the dispenser, he would talk to Engie. But he would always keep it short and to the point. That way, he felt more comfortable. It was as if he was speaking to robots more than human beings even though, deep down, he wished he could afford to see people with the same kind eye as he saw animals. Countless times he did try in the past, and part of him still does. He was what one might call, hypersensitive, and if he was immune to some things like the sight of gore and blood, he was cursed with the ability to read other people's emotions very quickly and feel them himself. As a teenager and very young man, it made him feel bad, fragile, almost emotionally handicapped. But over the years, he grew a thick skin and taught himself how to discard those feelings.

"Meow?"

Perle's meow broke Sniper's daydream.

"Uh? Yeah, yeah, let's get you back home, pretty cat. Hootsy, you be a good boy while I'm away."

He put on a warm jacket, his glasses and hat, took Perle in his arms and left his van. He crossed the space between his van and the base quickly. He opened the door and entered. His colleagues were still in the living room, as he could hear their voices. He crossed the corridor directly and took the first few steps down. He was about to knock at the door with the knife symbol on it when something prevented him from doing so.

**_\-- Author's notes --_**

Thank you all for your kudos and your comment, it really makes a massive difference :) !!

Feel free to let me know what you think of this one :)

Also if you're of age, you're welcome to join my discord server! We're a small group of Sniper/Spy fans and that's where I keep people posted about my progress through the chapters :) !

Link is usual and in the end: /BPbVqct


	6. Chapter 6

Sniper was about to knock when he heard a muffled noise. He got his ear closer to the door, held his breath and listened for a while.

_He's… singin'?!_

The Frenchman had put the volume of his radio louder and was indeed singing. Sniper could not distinguish the words but the sounds clearly indicated that his colleague was singing in his mother tongue. He got curious and secretly wished there was a peephole on the door. What he did not know is that had there been one, he would have not only seen the Frenchman sing but dance.

Spy was not himself anymore and surrendered to the other drug he had been addicted to his whole life, besides nicotine: music. He was not the masked secret agent anymore. He was Lucien, singer in Parisian restaurants again. As he spun around, arms wide open, he saw the dark red wallpaper of his room fade to become the dark blue decor of the latest place he had sung for. It was one of Paris' best and most posh restaurants, located on the Champs-Élysées themselves. Only important, rich and famous people came to have dinner there and Lucien had managed to get hired as a singer. He remembered how it all happened. He had started singing in local cafés but his voice and manners would always get him in trouble…with the lady customers. So he went from restaurant to restaurant, earning barely enough to rent a room as spacious as a sardine tin can. He had moved away from his original city of Bordeaux and thus had lost contact with his friends. One night, he had been singing as usual and was walking home. It was as dark as it could get but still warm. He put his hands in his pockets and decided to take the long route home. Lucien soon found himself on the Champs-Élysées which were still busy despite the late hour. He looked at his right, at the shops that he could not even afford to spell the name! The French haute-couture shops, Coco Chanel, Christian Dior, Yves-Saint-Laurent, Jean-Paul Gauthier… He sighed and dreamt of his life working as a great clothes designer, surrounded by people who believed you had a gift, a superior and godly ability to express yourself through clothing, to have top models as your canvas to paint emotions through colours and textures… Oh Lucien would have loved such a life but he was not born with the luck and money to pursue such a career. The young man looked at his right again. A couple of restaurants and nightclubs were still opened and he overheard a conversation between some customers sitting outside.

"Depuis qu'il est parti, cet établissement a perdu son charme, c'est fou!"

["Since he left, this establishment lost all its charm, it's mad!"]

"Ah, il chantait si bien…! Avoir les musiciens sans le chanteur, c'est complètement absurde!"

[Ah, he used to sing so well! Having the band without the singer is completely absurd.]

"Je vais vous dire, c'est là qu'on se rend compte que c'est lui qui sublimait toute la scène."

[Let me tell you, that's when you realise that was keeping it all together and transforming it into something else!]

"Mais bien sûr."

[But of course.]

Lucien stopped walking a lit a cheap cigarette. He leant against a nearby tree and still listened to the conversation. A waiter came to those clients.

"Nous sommes désolés mais nous allons partir."

[We are very sorry but we have to leave.]

"M'enfin Monsieur le Ministre, vous prendrez bien un petit quelque chose avant?"

[But Minister, Sir, you can't leave without having anything?]

"Non, la seule raison pour laquelle je venais régulièrement, c'était la voix incroyable de Monsieur Antoine, et il est parti!"

[No, the only reason why I kept on visiting frequently was Monsieur Antoine's incredible show, and now he is gone!]

The waiter lowered his head and his face was screaming defeat. The Minister and his guests stood up and adjusted their hats and coats.

"Vous êtes les n-ièmes clients à partir ce soir à cause de ça…"

[You are the hundredth clients to leave tonight because of that…]

The waiter said sadly. The important men around him looked like it was the least of their concerns and were about to leave when…

"Attendez."

[Wait.]

Lucien had thrown his cigarette away and stepped out of the shadow of the tree.

"Vous voulez un chanteur avec une voix unique?"

[You want a singer with a unique voice?]

The Minister looked half surprised, half annoyed at this random layman's intrusion.

"Oui, Monsieur mais-"

[Yes, Sir, but-]

The waiter was about to argue when Lucien raised his head and looked at the men who were about his height, dead in the eye. His eyes were shining fiercely under the low street lights.

"Eh bien je suis votre homme et je n'ai pas une mais mille voix."

[Well then I am your man and I don't have one but a thousand voices.]

The Minister and his guests burst into laughter, the waiter could not hold back a mocking smile.

"Vous?"

[You?]

Lucien smiled devilishly. He cleared his throat.

"_Oui, Monsieur le Ministre, je possède bien mille voix et la vôtre en fait désormais partie._"

_[Yes, Minister, as you can see I really do possess a thousand voices and from now on yours is one of them_.]

Lucien had imitated the big and plump man who was only taller than him because of his hat. The Minister had instantly lost his smile and was genuinely impressed. The younger man smirked and stuck his chest out in pride.

"Bon, je reviendrai demain pour une audition, à quelle heure pourrai-je trouver le chef de cet établissement?"

[Well then, I will come back tomorrow for an audition. At what time will I be able to find the director of this place free to listen to me?]

The waiter was speechless. He took a couple seconds to answer, tripping on his own words.

"Vers 10h… A-avant le service de-de midi…"

[Around 10am… B-before the lunch round…]

Lucien put a hand on his bérêt and smiled, nodding to say goodbye. He walked back home, his heart buzzing with excitement and impatience. He had been bold, very much so. He could have been arrested on the spot! As he knew, anything was a pretext to get him arrested. But not this time. This time, he had turned it into a opportunity, a priceless one, one that you get once in a lifetime. He was an audition away from making it! Oh he could see himself already! Posters with his face all across Paris.

"Le Grand Lucien au célèbre restaurant Le Conquérant sur les Champs-Élysées."

["The Great Lucien at the famous restaurant The Conqueror on the Champs-Élysées."]

He had arrived a couple minutes early the next day. He stood facing the golden letters which spelled, in the style of a majestic cursive handwriting: Le Conquérant. Lucien thought that the restaurant was wearing a brave name for a place which was about to fall for his talents! He knocked at the restaurant's door and waited patiently. Someone came.

"Monsieur?"

"Je viens pour l'audition."

[I come for the audition.]

"Ah, très bien, suivez-moi."

[Ah, very well, follow me.]

He was showed inside and did his best to hide his amazement. Lucien had never seen or dreamt of such a wealthy dining area for a restaurant. The floor was wooden and the walls were navy blue with golden fleur-de-lis. From his younger days at school, he remembered that that particular flower was the symbol of the French monarchy and later, the French Empire. He stuck his chest out and felt proud as if he himself was Napoléon marching and conquering the 75 Avenue des Champs-Élysées. The pride he felt walking in such a luxurious decor even changed his gait. He walked confidently, almost as if he owned the place. This was the sort of environment he wanted to work in! Not some local bistrot!

"Montez sur scène, Monsieur Duchemin arrive."

[Go on stage, Monsieur Duchemin will come shortly.]

Lucien nodded and jumped the couple steps to climb on the stage. He walked to the middle of it, next to the piano and removed his bérêt. The young man raised his head to take in the wide room in front of him. A spotlight switched on and illuminated him. He rested his weight on his right leg and looked proudly at the tables scattered in front of him. The silver cutlery was shining shyly, the white satin tablecloth was trembling in anticipation and the velvet seats were waiting for his show. He could feel it. He was not realising it but he was slightly grinning. Lucien had come not for a job, but for a life, a new one, a better one, one he could lead completely freely.

Monsieur Duchemin appeared in the dining room. He was a tall and square-built man. He was dressed sharp with a dark blue suit and tie, a white handkerchief sticking out of his front pocket on his suit jacket.

"Monsieur, je vous préviens, je n'ai pas de temps à vous accorder."

[Sir, be warned I have no time to spare for you.]

Lucien pricked his ears up and focused.

_Accent Parisien, un léger cheveux sur la langue, une voix de ténor…_

_[Parisian accent, a slight lisp and a tenor voice…]_

"On m'a dit que vous saviez imiter?"

[I was told you know how to imitate people.]

Lucien looked up at him. He could hardly see him because of the spotlight but he nonetheless stared intensely where the rich man's eyes were.

"_On ne vous a pas menti._"

[_Well you were not lied to.]_

He imitated him back. The man opened wide eyes and smirked.

"Ah! Eh bien voilà qui est nouveau! Mais nous cherchons un chanteur, non un imitateur."

[Ah! Well that is quite new! But we are looking for a singer, not an imitator.]

"C'est ma principale profession."

[That is my main job.]

Monsieur Duchemin raised an eyebrow.

"Et bien allez-y, chantez-moi quelque chose."

[Well then, sing me something.]

Lucien looked left and right. He knew he had to prove himself now. He needed to succeed, to get it right and absolutely so. He needed to blow Duchemin's mind away.

"Vous pouvez utiliser le micro et voulez peut-être un accompagnement? Du piano, ça vous va?"

[You can use that mic there and might want someone to accompany you? Would a piano do?]

Lucien nodded and someone appeared from backstage. They sat on the piano and looked at him. Lucien took a deep breath and grabbed the mic in front of him. Given the type of restaurant, he needed something classy, something elegant. Something that everybody knew and loved and something where he could show his voice off. A classic, a classic sung by one of those voice where you need to sing your lungs out and the words fly and rain down on people's heart like a million arrows. But one can't just sing a classic, it had to be flawless. Ah, he knew what to sing. _Comme d'habitude_ it will be. The song that Sinatra had transformed into "My Way.".

"_Je me lève, et je te bouscule,_

_[I get up and slightly jostle you]_

_Tu ne te réveilles pas, comme d'habitude!"_

_[But you don't wake up, as usual]_

He started singing quite low and used the first verse to warm his voice up and relax his muscle, stretch them sometimes. Duchemin seemed bored but Lucien knew exactly what he was doing. When the chorus came, he relaxed and sang louder. Duchemin opened wide eyes again and that was exactly what Lucien needed to boost his confidence even more and for him to utterly give in to the piano playing behind. He started walking on the stage, making it his own. He opened his arms, clenched his fist and put it on his heart, closing his eyes and mastering the vibrato in his voice. He was improvising his choreography on the fly, his movements and his facial expressions accompanying his voice and the lyrics.

The final chorus came and Lucien put the microphone back on its stand and walked away from it. He opened his arms wide, took a deep breath and he sang the final lines as if his very life depended on it, with an intensity that he rarely showed, that force inside him that was burning and yearning to beat the odds. The poor scoundrel who would make it despite everything. A cliché maybe but it was his life and he could not care less about what people would think or say. He was about to succeed, he was about to take fate from its neck and snap it, feeling its very vertebrae crack under his thin yet determined fingers. He didn't notice but behind him, the rest of the musicians showed up and took their instruments in their hands. They nonetheless did not accompany the piano and kept silent, watching Lucien's show. He stomped the wooden floor of the stage with his foot, planting his legs about a foot apart from each other, as if to suck the very energy of the whole stage from his feet. He spread his arms like wings. His voice was the invisible firebreath of the dragon that he unleashed from the cage of his soul for the flames to raze his audience, leaving their ears and minds blank and washed up like a coast city after a violent tsunami. He wanted Monsieur Duchemin to feel empty inside, his soul too tired to be able to process or feel anything. He wanted to leave him struggling to find some air to breathe.

Lucien stopped singing as the piano use slowed and dies out. He was panting and he wiped his brow off the sweat. Silence fell in the room, only broken by the occasional sound of plates or glasses being moved in by the waiters who were readying the room. The young man was nervous. Because of the spotlight he could not see the rich man's face so he couldn't read his feelings. Silent seconds passed and each new one was harder to take in, he left like he was clinging on the edge of a cliff and slowly losing his grip. Eventually, the rich man spoke.

"Vous savez chanter en d'autres langues?"

[Do you know some songs in other languages as well?]

Lucien raised an eyebrow. Of course he knew other languages and that was not thanks to school but again, to his abilities to charm a woman, whatever her country of origin. He actually had a weakness for foreigners. He liked the charm of the unknown, it added up to the thrill of the seduction. And it made him travel. Through these ladies, he had mapped quite a fair bit of the globe. He also had to thank Bordeaux and Paris for being such touristic places. In the first, he had met with mainly Spanish ladies but also a couple if English ones. But then, when he got to Paris, the nationalities exploded and he had a go at every continent, so to speak. And thanks to all these acquaintances, he had gather a fair amount of knowledge in different languages.

"Oui."

"En anglais?"

[In English?]

"Oui. En espagnol aussi."

[Yes. In Spanish too.]

At the time, he only knew a few words of both languages, barely enough to communicate. But of course the language of love is universal, as they said.

"Chantez-moi quelque chose en espagnol alors et l'orchestre vous accompagnera."

[Sing something in Spanish then and the orchestra will accompany you.]

Lucien felt his knees weaken and his legs were slightly shaking in his trousers. He did not know why Duchemin wanted him to sing in Spanish. He thought it was weird in the context of such a fine establishment. He did not know that Duchemin had precisely asked him for that exact reason. His singing star had moved away and he needed to find a replacement but it was absolutely unthinkable for him to have someone who would sing the same songs. He needed something new and refreshing and maybe the divine providence had put that random man in front of him because that was what he needed.

Lucien came close to the microphone again and started singing. The orchestra took a couple seconds but slowly, all the instruments glided in and added more layers and more texture to the auditive experience. He had set his mind to sing that great Spanish classic "Quizás, quizás, quizás." He understood the lyrics and knew them from the top of his head. He also mastered the pronunciation so he could focus on the expression, the feelings he wanted to convey. That song was a slow tango so it needed intensity, a slight vibrato here and there and a powerful voice, one that comes from one's very guts.

The violins tickled Lucien's ears, his hips were following the deep sound of the double bass behind him on their own, almost seductively. He could feel the waves of air resonating in his ribcage and his heart synchronised with the rhythm of the music. He was high on music, he felt the air fill with the notes and his voice has adding the last ingredient to the mix. In a way, it was delivering the fatal blow to Duchemin's heart.

When the music stopped, he turned and thanked the musicians, who nodded and exchanged short words of praise towards him. It warmed his heart.

"Bien. Suivez-moi."

[Well, follow me.]

Duchemin's voice broke Lucien's moment of high like a porcelain plate shattering on a tiled floor. His dreams of a life as luxurious as the decor he was standing in vanished. He was now following the director of one of Paris' most expensive places back to the front door. His heart fell to the ground and he lowered his head. He felt both empty, powerless and beaten by a force much greater than him. Maybe it was written that way. Maybe he was never to succeed and get out of his miserable life. Maybe he was condemned to steal all his life and sing in vulgar bistrots…

Duchemin arrived in front of the door and turned left. Lucien stopped at the door and looked through the window. He could see the famous Avenue des Champs-Élysées. He thought it looked grey and dead. Cars and people were coming and going but he couldn't feel the life in them. Had they been robots, it would have been all the same to him.

"Eh bien? Vous me suivez?!"

[Hey there? Are you still following me?!]

Lucien got startled by Duchemin's voice. He raised his head to him and looked at him.

"Je vais vous montrer votre loge. Vous commencerez ce soir! Allez, je n'ai pas de temps à perdre!"

[I will show you your room backstage. You will start tonight. Come on, I don't have all day!]

Lucien's face brightened, he felt like his feet rose above the ground and tears went up to his eyes.

Spy felt that ecstatic joy again as he was dancing on his own in his smoking room. He had forgotten how pleasurable and gratifying a good day of work felt. The coordination on the battlefield was impeccable. Today he had felt part of a team and it did pay.

Sniper was too curious. With Perle still in his arms he exited the base and ran along the wall. He knew Spy's room had thin windows and he knew on which wall they were. He came in front of the windows. As the Frenchman's room was half underground, the windows were actually on ground level. Sniper crouched next to a corner and wiped some frost away from the window.

"Blimey…"

He opened wide eyes in astonishment, and removed his tinted glasses to see better. He blinked a couple of times to make sure he was really seeing what he thought was happening. The Frenchman was enjoying himself! He seemed so different from the cold bitter man he had always shown to the whole team. Sniper watched as his colleague had rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt and was dancing on his feet, moving his hips elegantly and supplely. He was singing, shaking his head left to right and clapping his hands in rhythm.

Sniper wished the Frenchman could turn to face the window. He had removed his mask but he was giving his back to Sniper! The marksman could see the back of his head, the dark hair and the thin neck. Thinking about it again, Sniper preferred it that way. Had the Frenchman been facing the window, he would surely have noticed his curious colleague stuck on the glass. Also, the Australian would have felt like a pervert trying to catch a glimpse of something he was not supposed to. It was only a face but it would have felt wrong, very much so. Spy wanted his identity to stay secret and Sniper respected that. There were things about him too that he wanted nobody to know of.

Slowly the song finished and Sniper saw Spy laugh to himself heartily. The Frenchman wiped his brow with the back of his hand and put his hands on his hips. He was grateful. He did not know what he did to deserve that moment of bliss but there he was. He looked at himself on the mirror and sighed. An old man dancing as if he was twenty or thirty again. He turned and Sniper went away and stuck his back to the wall nervously. He hoped the Frenchman hadn't seen him and tried his best to wipe away what little he saw of his colleague's face. Thanks to his excellent reflexes, he hadn't seen much. The only thing he saw was the skin tone of his colleague, only a bit fairer than him. For the rest, he had moved too quickly for his eyes to actually see anything.

The sound of the radio had died and Sniper decided to go and give Perle back to her owner. He went back to the door with a knife logo on it and knocked.

Spy froze. He quickly put on his mask and gloves and opened his door.

"Hey, uhm, sorry mate uh, it's Perle, she came to me again."

The Frenchman opened wide eyes.

"Oh, my apologies for that."

Sniper handed the cat to Spy who took her delicately in her arms. The Australian felt the velvet gloved fingers of the Frenchman as he was passing him the cat and could not hold back a slight blush.

"I am sorry she keeps visiting you unwantedly."

Sniper put a hand behind his neck and looked at the floor for a bit, just so his blush disappeared. He felt like a schoolboy who was trying to hide that he'd been a naughty kid.

"Oh, no worries, I like her, she's always welcome and uh… Also she brought me some of her treats."

"Really?"

"Y-yeah, I mean she brought them for Hootsy and me… But yeah, as I said, she doesn't bother me at all, it's just that I figured you'd worry if you couldn't find her."

Spy smiled and Sniper's pupils widened slightly.

"Merci, Sniper. Indeed I would have but now I know. If I can't find her, she's with you. You don't need to bring her back each time. I'm happy for her to roam around as freely as she wants as long as she does not trouble you."

"Oh, she doesn't, nah, not at all. She uhm… She just meows and asks for pets."

Spy looked down at Perle in his arms.

"Ah, maintenant tu mendies des câlins, hm? Comme si je ne te gâtais pas déjà assez!"

[Ah, and now you beg for pets, hm? As if I was not spoiling you already!]

Sniper smiled. He couldn't understand anything of what Spy was saying but it warmed his heart to see his colleague who was so cold usually soften when he was taking care of his feline friend.

"Anyway, thank you very much Sniper."

"No worries mate. G'night."

Sniper returned to his van and laid in his bed. He stared at the ceiling. He could see the stars and the shy lights. The Australian nonetheless did not pay attention to them. All he could see however was the Frenchman dancing with the starry night as a background.

**_\-- Author's notes --_**

Thanks for reading :)

_Comments are greatly appreciated ;) !_

See y'all around for 7!


	7. Chapter 7

He was in a city, a busy one. It was all grey, the sky, the buildings, the walls. And blimey, how many people live there, it's as busy as an anthill! Sniper looked around him.

"Meow?"

He looked at his feet. Perle was there. She looked up at him and then turned her back to him and trotted away. She was about to cross a road.

_She's gonna get run over by a car or some'in'!_

Mundy ran after her to try and catch her. He shoved the crowd left and right, doing his best to catch up with the white feline whose colour contrasted sharply with the grey background. She crossed the road safely but seeing that Sniper was chasing her, she started running too. The Australian accelerated and put a hand on his hat to keep it on. Perle was beautifully finding thin gaps between the crowd where she could leap but Sniper found himself always struggling to push people aside.

"PERLE! WAIT!"

He shouted but the lady cat did not care whatsoever and kept running forward. He soon lost her sight.

_Bugger_.

He looked around. He felt like he was a droplet of fresh water in the salty grey ocean of concrete and dull people. He felt insignificant, unimportant. He turned around and around, trying to understand where he was, what he was meant to do. All directions were the same. People everywhere. Busy individuals forming a swarming and buzzing crowd. But still, individuals, only caring about themselves. Nobody seemed to have noticed him.

Mundy was lost. He picked a random direction and starting walking on the pavement. He put his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet. His brown boots contrasted sharply with... the white of the snow? And he felt it crunching under his feet. He raised his head suddenly and saw no one. He was in a snow desert. No people, no buildings, no walls, nothing but snow as far as the eye could see. He looked around, even behind him. Nothing.

"Meow?"

He looked at his feet again. Perle had reappeared. He crouched and stroked her back. She purred but soon went away. He stood back up again and his eyes followed her. She walked to the silhouette of a man. Sniper squinted. The man was giving his back to him. He crouched down and took Perle in his arms.

"Oh, Perle."

Mundy froze.

_The French accent._

The Australian saw the dark red suit and the dark hair. The man started turning on his heels to face him.

"AAAAH!"

Sniper woke up, panting and sweating, his eyes wide open. He took a couple seconds to ease his breath and calm his heart down. He sighed.

_My God… What a strange dream…_

The sun was hardly rising. Sniper looked at his watch.

4.30am…

He tried falling asleep again but he couldn't and after an hour or so, he decided to get out of bed. It was now the weekend and he had no plans apart from trying to not freeze to death. He started to make some coffee. While it was brewing, he took a quick shower. The image of the Frenchman slowly turning to face him was stuck in his mind. He exited the shower and got dressed. His hair was still wet but he couldn't wait for the warm hug of coffee. The first couple of sips warmed him up from the inside. The bitter taste itched his tongue, but that's how he liked his coffee. Black and bitter. Only when he was home with his mother did he enjoy coffee with milk. But it had to be prepared by her, she was the only one who knew how to make it right.

Sniper sat on his couch and looked around him. He needed to take care of the laundry and maybe arrange his clothes in his cupboard. But for now he daydreamed as he watched the sun rise slowly through his window, the smell of coffee waking his senses up one by one.

\-- _Spy's suite --_

"Mmmh… Perle… Laisse-moi dormir…"

[Mmmh… Perle… Let me sleep…]

"Meow…"

The cat had woken up and was brushing her face on Spy's. He grumbled and turned on his bed.

"Meow…"

He took the pillow next to him and put it on top of his head.

_Scritch… scritch… scritch…_

She was scratching the pillow as if to dig her master up. He sighed, removed the pillow and turned to face her. She meowed happily and purred. He was now lying on his back and rubbing his eyes.

"Mon Dieu… Quand tu as une idée en tête… "

[My God… When your mind is set, nothing will change it… ]

She climbed on his chest and laid there, her head in the Frenchman's neck.

"Merci ma chérie."

[Thank you sweetheart.]

He stroked her back slowly and smiled as he heard her pur. He was not one to like cuddling or physical contact, but with Perle, it was different. Actually now that he thought about it, it had only been different with Perle and that woman. He frowned slightly.

"Meow."

He lowered his eyes. Perle had removed her head from his neck and was staring at him.

_Arrête de penser à elle. Tu te fais du mal pour rien._

_[Stop thinking about her. You're hurting yourself for nothing.]_

She was saying with her eyes.

"Tu as raison."

[You are right.]

He smiled at her albeit sadly. He missed it though. The charm of a woman, the eyes that speak a thousand words in a slow flap of the eyelids. He closed his eyes and dreamt he could touch her soft skin, trace her curves from the tip of his fingers, delicately, lose his fingers in her hair, smell her perfume. He took a deep breath and exhaled, opening his eyes slowly. No smell of feminine perfume. No smell of any kind besides the lingering smell of his cigarettes.

_Bah, Perle a raison, je n'y peux plus rien._

_[Bah, Perle is right, I can't do anything about it anymore.]_

He sighed. It had been years since they had broke up. But he couldn't get her out of his head. His mind went through the different ladies he had been with since. It was like flicking through the pages of a lengthy phone book, but with faces. None of them managed to replace her. He had also tried replacing her with people he'd find on his missions, not all females.

He smiled thinking about it again. Him, the old arrogant and snobbish man, with another man. The first time it had been awkward yet thrilling. It was that night he discovered that there were actually no real reasons to be disgusted or against it at all. It was as enjoyable as with the ladies. Obviously it was very different but he realised that he could feel as much towards a man as he could with a woman. Of course, no one knew that about him. And when he shared that secret with someone, he would share much more… Thinking about it, courtship with men was more enjoyable. Because it was a taboo and considered a bad or immoral thing by society in general, he had to be extremely cautious when dealing with a man, especially when he wasn't sure that his target could reciprocate. And that was exciting, thrilling. The chase of the forbidden, of the secretive. He had found to his surprise that most men he would approach would reciprocate. Not at first, of course, but after a bit of work, most would yield. He was also surprised how many of them would then tell him it was their first time, or how they were wanting it but were never brave enough to actually try and make it happen.

Conventions and traditions are ridiculous. Yes, maybe. Or maybe they just need to change, to adapt to new behaviours, new ways of seeing things. In any case, he was convinced that it would require more time than his life span for people to change their minds about it. And in any case, he was not too bothered. He was a spy, a top secret service agent. Unspoken secrets were his trade.

But yes, how he regretted those nights with men. Some were agents like him. Some were agents unlike him, meaning that they were working for another country. But being spies, they both knew how to keep it a secret. He found that, exactly like with women, he had a weakness for foreigners. He also found that his nationality and the stereotypes associated with it helped greatly. How many people dreamt of having an adventure, even short, with a French man? He had found that the answer was: more than he could have imagined.

Spy turned his head to look at the clock.

5h30.

He thought he should get up. At such an early hour, he would find no one in the kitchen and could hope to get some breakfast in peace. He gently moved Perle off his bed and put on his gown. He went to the bathroom and washed his face to wake himself up completely. He then came to the smoking room and got dressed. He opted for a Burgundy turtleneck cashmere top a pair of dark grey trousers.

"Meow?"

"Je vais me chercher de quoi petit-déjeuner. Tu restes sage d'accord?"

[I'm going to get some breakfast. You behave alright?]

Perle brushed herself against her master's feet. He put on his mask and gloves and, grabbing his vest, he left his suite. He arrived in the kitchen and as expected, the whole base was silent. He prepared some coffee and while it was brewing he rolled the blinds up. Sliding a finger on the side of the curtain, he looked out. The sun had risen and it had snowed during the evening. The ground was white and no footprints had disturbed its smooth surface. It was still snowing quite heavily. He let got of the thin curtain and went back to preparing himself some breakfast. He sat on the table and started enjoying his coffee when his ears pricked up. Something was making some noise from outside and the noise was growing louder meaning that what was causing it was getting closer. As a reflex he put a hand on his vest, where the inner pocket was. He felt the blade was still there. Whatever was coming, he was ready to welcome it. He frowned and, from his seat, he stared at the door, holding his breath.

The door opened and Spy saw a tall figure enter. They closed the door and Sniper removed his hat. He unrolled the scarf around his face and removed his thick winter gloves. He raised his eyes and saw Spy.

"Oh, G'day mate."

"Bonjour."

Sniper threw his stuff on the coathanger next to the door but kept his coat. The Australian saw the coffee and rushed to it, poured some of it in a cup and sat opposite him. That's when the Frenchman noticed that his colleague was shivering and his teeth were chattering.

"Are you alright?"

"Mate, it's too cold for me to stay in me van. I'm freezing there."

The tall man was bending his back and had stuck his hands on the hot beverage to warm himself up.

"I'll have to spend the day here somewhere."

"Don't you have a room in the base like everyone?"

"Yeah, yeah I do. But it's empty, it has none of my things "

Sniper shrugged.

"At least it'll be less cold than in my van."

He took a sip of the coffee. Spy stared at him while drinking his own.

"Whot?"

"Pardon my staring, Sniper, I was just daydreaming."

"Oh, roight."

Spy put his eyes on the newspaper that was lying on the table. He did not want to read it.

"I like it when it's silent like that in the morning."

The Frenchman raised his head from his cup.

"I agree with you, Sniper."

"That's why I never have dinner with the rest of you. I can rarely bear the noise and everyone's chatter."

Spy smiled.

"Oui. Most of it is unnecessary anyway."

"How do you cope with it?"

"I ignore it."

"Ah, good for you. I can't stand it."

Spy's eyes went back to the newspaper. The headlines were about someone who got shot. It reminded Spy of the impressive triple shot by his colleague.

"Sniper?"

"Hm?"

"That shot on the three Pyros yesterday was very impressive."

Sniper raised his head from his cup and straightened his back a bit.

"Well I was happy with it too."

"I have never seen anyone shoot as precisely as you do."

Sniper smiled proudly.

"Well, uh, thanks mate but I mean uh… Looking at the reports from yesterday's session, you were clearly the best mercenary. Also, that shot I took at the Pyros was not as good as I wanted it to be."

Spy raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about? You took 3 people down with a single bullet. It was an admirable shot."

"Yeah, well, I'd be happier if it was 3 headshots."

"Ah, I understand but please, that was the best shot of the week, if not the month."

Sniper's cheek went pink.

"Thanks mate."

Spy nodded.

"Meow?"

The smile on the Frenchman's face disappeared.

"Perle! Je t'avais demandé de rester à la maison…!"

[Perle! I had asked you to stay home…!]

The cat jumped on the Australian's lap. He scratched her head gently.

"Don't tell her off, she's fine."

Perle purred and scratched Sniper's coat. Spy rolled up his eyes, smiling.

"I guess you are right. It's too cold for her to go outside, chances are she'll stay home today… Or on your lap."

Sniper smiled.

"She can, I have nothing to do but stay in me room, laying on the mattress and staring at the ceiling…"

"What about your owl?"

Sniper unzipped his coat and Hootsy's head popped out.

"Oh, there he is. Bonjour Monsieur."

The bird shook his head and his whole plumage, and jumped on the table. Perle followed him with her eyes. The owl walked towards Lucien, shyly.

"You can go'n see him, he doesn't bite. Actually he only backstabs so don't turn yer back Hootsy."

Spy raised an eyebrow.

"Don't listen to him, I only backstab the members of the BLU team. But you are one of us, _petit bonhomme_, and so you are completely safe. Also who would harm such a fine creature as you are, hm?"

[Little mister]

"Hoo."

"Who indeed, my little one."

Lucien extended his gloved hand but then withdrew it quickly. Sniper raised an eyebrow like a question mark. He watched as the Frenchman looked up and pricked his ears up for a while. He then nodded and removed his glove on his right hand and extended it. Sniper blushed and diverted his gaze. Hootsy came close to Spy's naked hand but hesitated.

"N'aie pas peur, je ne te veux pas de mal mon ami."

[Don't be afraid, I don't mean to do you any harm my friend.]

The Frenchman noticed how his colleague had turned his head and it impressed him. It was not much but such a small gesture showed how much the Australian respected him.

"Sniper, I don't wear gloves to hide my hands, I use them to not leave fingerprints. You may look, it is fine."

"Ah, roight, uh, thanks."

The Australian looked and realised that the Frenchman had long and slim fingers. His nails were impeccable, short and clear. Sniper watched as Hootsy put his head against Spy's index and then scratched himself against it. The older man smiled.

"I think I passed the test!"

Spy said, triumphant.

"Yeah, well, my Hootsy isn't as picky as your _Payrlee_."

Spy smiled.

"First, it's Perle and second, that's very bold to say for the man who prefers the rusticity of a camper van over the comfort of a real house."

Sniper smiled.

"Ah, touchey mate! But I only said Perlee to pull your leg."

Spy rolled his eyes up.

"Whot?"

"It's touché, not touchey."

Sniper raised his eyes up and shrugged.

"Can't hear any bloody difference!"

They both exchanged a short laugh when Spy raised his index finger from his gloved hand. Sniper instantly shut up and opened wide eyes. The Frenchman put his glove back on.

"They are waking up and will be here any minute."

"Oh."

Sniper gulped down the rest of his coffee in one go and went to the sink to wash his cup. Spy stood up and headed to his room. He opened the door and kept it open for Perle to enter.

"Meow."

She sat down.

"Allez Perle, on rentre."

[Come on Perle, we come back home.]

"Meow."

She still sat there and licked her paw elegantly.

"Eh bien? Qu'est-ce qui se passe?"

[So? What's the problem?]

He heard the showers in the bathroom start and looked down at his feline friend. She stared at him with her charming eyes.

_Invite-le à venir._

_[Invite him to come with you.]_

"Non."

_Pourquoi? Tu aimerais passer ta journée à te blottir dans une chambre vide loin de chez toi, tout seul?_

_[Why? Would you like to spend your day curling up in an empty room far from home on your own?]_

"Perle, ça n'est pas mon problème."

[Perle, that is not my problem.]

She blinked and she raised her tail up, her fur bristling slightly.

"Pourquoi tu te mets en colère?"

[Why are you angry?]

_Tu le sais._

_[__You know it.]_

Spy rolled his eyes up and shut the door, leaving Perle out. He sat down on his armchair and clenched his fists, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin over the tops of them. He pondered for a minute.

"Et merde, Perle!"

[And to hell with it all, Perle!]

He jumped out of his armchair and opened his door. His cat was still there. She raised her eyes slowly.

_C'est bon, tu as compris?_

_[Is that it? You've understood why now?]_

Spy grunted and went through the corridor. He stopped at the door with the target symbol and knocked. He heard some noise and the door opened.

"Oh, hey Spy."

"Excusez-moi Sniper…"

[Excuse-me Sniper…]

He looked up at the taller man but he the words did not come out of his mouth. How does one do it again? How does one invite someone for a coffee or for a chat or for anything?

_Argh…_

Even in French, words did not come easily. He realised that he couldn't remember the last time he did that. Invite someone for a friendly drink.

"You're alroight?"

Sniper's voice broke his train of thoughts.

"Uh, oui, uhm, Sniper, would you maybe prefer the comfort of a fireplace and a good coffee?"

The Australian opened wide eyes.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

_Bugger, what did I get myself into?__Et merde, me voilà coincé maintenant, merci Perle…_

[_Shit, I'm trapped now, thank you Perle…]_

**_\-- Author's notes --_**

Thanks for reading and as always it's your comments which push me to write more! :D

See you for number 8! :)


	8. Chapter 8

Spy let Sniper with Hootsy on his shoulder in and, looking around to make sure that no one had seen them, he locked the door. The Australian removed his hat off his head and looked around Spy's smoking room . The decor was on the opposite end of what he would have chosen but it suited the posh Frenchman. There was an oil painting of himself on a horse, wearing Napoléon's clothes and another one of his knife stabbing fruit.

_Such a spook thing, this man is pure arrogance..._

The furniture was neatly organised. There was a sofa in front of the fireplace with two armchairs, one on each side. One was more worn out and had more white hair from the cat than the other. There were small tables between the sofa and the armchairs. Upon one of them was an empty glass of wine and some magazines. In the corner, a long mirror was standing and next to it, a closed door. Sniper guessed that Spy's bedroom was on the other side.

"Pray take a seat and make yourself at home. I can take your coat, it's quite warm here."

"Oh, uh, yeah, thanks."

Sniper removed his coat and the Frenchman hung it on the coat hanger with his vest. The Australian went and sat on the sofa, on the right. Hootsy stood on the back of the sofa, making it his perch.

"Meow."

Perle jumped on the sofa and laid next to him.

"I have some good coffee if you want, maybe some decaffeinated if you prefer?"

"Uh, regular coffee will be fine."

"Très bien, give me a moment."

[Very well]

Spy went to the wall under the windows and prepared some coffee. He let it brew and came to sit next to the Australian who was stroking Perle.

"I see you have a record-player…"

Sniper pointed at the box on the small table next to the mirror.

"Ah, that thing is just collecting dust. Unfortunately I have only brought very few of my vinyls. But give me an instant, I'll be back with some coffee."

Sniper nodded and Spy went to get the hot drinks. He put it on a tray with some sugar for himself, he had seen that Sniper didn't have any sugar or milk. He looked through his couple of cupboards and found some biscuits that he put in a small glass plate. It was some French ones and he knew they'd be perfect with coffee.

"There you go, Sniper, I assumed you would prefer a mug over a small cup. And please, help yourself to the biscuits."

The Frenchman sat on the same sofa, only on the left.

"Oh, wow, thanks. These are good… What're they called?"

"Langue de chat."

"_Lang dew shah?"_

Spy couldn't hold back a smile.

"Close enough."

"Say it again."

Sniper bent forward and stared at Spy's lips. He saw them slowly part and his tongue danced, unravelling his pearly white teeth.

"Langue de chat."

The Australian took a second and tried again.

"_Long duh shah?"_

Spy nodded.

"Much better!"

"Does that mean anything?"

"Literally, 'cat's tongue'."

"Oh…"

"Because of its shape."

"You Frenchies might be good with biscuits but you're terrible when it comes to animal's anatomy."

Spy laughed and the Australian grabbed his mug and took a sip.

"Blimey that's some very good coffee you got there!"

"Indeed, it's a unique blend of beans. It's half from Chile and half from Brazil. What do you smell or taste in it?"

Sniper got the cup closer to his nose and smelled it.

"It's almost like… Mmh… It's almost like there are fruits with it…"

The Australian took another sip and let the warm drink drown his tongue. He took a second and closed his eyes and gulped it down.

"Blimey, it's so fruity and soft… Did you put any sugar in it?"

"Non, I did not. And you guessed correctly, it's a fruity mix. That's why I like it, and it's not too caffeinated."

Spy took a sip of his own and raised an eyebrow.

"I did not expect you to be a _connaisseur_ in coffee."

"It's about the only food that I can taste that well."

"Oh, why?"

"I guess I'm just used to coffee."

"If you have the palate for coffee, you surely have it for the rest."

Sniper raised his head to look the Frenchman in the eye.

"Uh?"

"I am sure you can taste wine as finely as you do coffee."

"Nah, never been able to tell the difference between a shit wine and a supposedly good one."

Spy raised his index finger.

"Ah! Non, I beg to differ. You _can_ taste the difference, but you choose to not dwell on it."

"How can you know?!"

"Because of the way you handled the coffee! Look, I can teach you if you want."

Sniper opened wide surprised eyes.

"Uh, ok, well yeah, I-I guess you could. But I've never been a good student so… And I don't want to bother you. You must be busy… Doin' whatever a spook does… And I'm sure I can't afford the wine-tasting lessons until paycheck comes..."

Spy smiled.

"Well I have always been a good teacher and you don't bother me at all. It would actually distract me so I would do it for free. My reward will be that I successfully killed time in a less dull fashion than I usually do."

They both took another sip of their coffee.

"But you mentioned the record-player. Do you want it? I am not using it."

"Oh, well, I have some discs back in me van so I guess I could use it, yeah."

"What kind of music do you usually listen to?"

Sniper put a hand behind his neck.

"Well, can be very different depending on my mood. I have some classic jazz, some more popular American stuff and, well, some latin jazz as well."

Spy raised an eyebrow.

"Latin jazz you say?"

"Yeah, things like Bossa Nova, where I can play the sax."

"You play the saxophone?"

Sniper nodded shyly.

"Interesting."

"What?"

"No offense, but I did not imagine you could play the saxophone."

"Well, add that to the list of things you're surprised about when it comes to me!"

"Pardon?"

"Mate, you keep on gettin' surprised!"

Sniper counted on his fingers.

"First it was the cat, then the coffee, then the sax! What will it be next?!"

"_You_ tell _me_!"

As soon as he said it, Spy froze and he felt his body tense up.

_Merde, mais pourquoi j'ai dit ça avec cette voix?_

_[Shit, but why did I say that with such a voice?]_

He quickly gulped down his last sip of coffee and thanked his mask to cover his ears. He felt they were turning hot.

"Meow?"

To the Frenchman, Perle seemed to smirk. He wanted to talk back to her but the fact that Sniper had his very hand on her prevented him from doing so. Instead he simply resorted to let his gaze do the talking and stared at her as if to say "Oh no you don't!". She flapped her fluffy tail and her smile grew wider.

"So, you sure you won't use it?"

Sniper's voice broke Spy's staring contest with the cat.

"Pardon?"

"The record-player."

"Non, non I won't. Not that I don't want to, but as I said, most of my discs are back in France. I will dust it off for you and you can have it."

"Actually, uhm, now that I think about it… I might stay in the base for a bit of time, for this blizzard to pass. I'll go and grab some stuff and I'll stay in me room I think."

"So you'd rather have it in your room in the base?"

Sniper nodded.

"If you don't mind, o'course?"

Spy shook his head.

"Not at all. By the way, do you want me to give you a hand to move your belongings from your camper van?"

"Oh, uh, yeah nah, it's fine, I'll manage on me own."

Spy raised an eyebrow.

"You sure? It could prevent you from crossing the cold too many times."

Sniper sighed.

"Yeah, you're roight I guess. But I don't want you to freeze either."

Spy smiled.

"I am better protected than you are and besides, I'm more used to the cold than you so no worries."

Sniper smiled.

"Thanks mate, but I didn't know France was like Siberia! And our winters in the desert are that harsh too. It's just me, I can't stand the cold."

Spy chuckled.

"Non, France is not but I do remember that your winters are much less harsh than ours."

"Wait, you been to Australia?"

The Frenchman nodded.

"On some missions, oui. Unfortunately it was not a leisure trip."

"Oh, whereabouts?"

And the conversation deviated on the subject of Sniper's country of origin. Spy described the landscapes he had seen, the desert inside the land, the green coasts, he even had to learn how to speak with an Australian accent to pass as a local sometimes. It amazed as well as amused Sniper.

"Oh, you've got to speak to me in an Aussie accent! I can't believe you can imitate it, you sound so French!"

Spy raised an eyebrow and his colleague realised he might have hurt him.

"No offense."

"None taken and I'm sorry, Sniper, it's been such a long time, I have forgotten most of it unfortunately… But if we continue chatting, you will contaminate me with your accent."

"Guess I gotta talk t'you more often then!"

As soon as that sentence finished exiting Sniper's mouth, the Australian blushed.

"Well, I mean like, uh, just for you to get the accent again eh, heh."

Spy smiled and nodded.

"But of course."

The marksman wanted to change subjects.

"I uh, I see you're well equipped here eh. You could live on your own."

Sniper pointed at the small kitchenette on the wall under the windows where Spy had prepared the coffee.

"Well, indeed I could and I enjoy it sometimes. But when the work day has been good, I have no need to lock myself up here with Perle, especially when I can play a game or two of poker!"

"And strip people off their money?"

"Well…"

Spy took a cigarette and lit it.

"Well, what?"

Spy raised a devious eyebrow smirking.

"Nothing…"

Perle tilted her head. The Frenchman looked at her.

_Tu sais que je ne "stripais" pas que de l'argent à l'époque quand je jouais!_

_[You know that I wasn't only stripping money out of people back in the days!]_

"Meow!"

The cat read her master's thought and he chuckled. Sniper raised his eyes to the clock and put the mug away.

"I should get going, mate, I've stayed here long enough."

Spy watched as Sniper got up and adjusted his jumper.

"Bien, let me get your coat."

"Hootsy, c'mere, we're going back home."

The owl flew to his master's shoulder, on top of his coat.

"W-what're you doing?"

"I'm coming to help you move your belongings. Perle, reste sage."

[Behave while I'm away.]

Spy dressed up and let Sniper lead the way. It only took a couple come and goes to get the Australian's belongings. When they put the bags in his room, Sniper turned to Spy.

"Thanks mate, really."

"Avec plaisir."

[My pleasure.]

The Frenchman said goodbye to him and came back to his suite. He locked the door and removed his heavy coat, scarf and gloves. He pulled on the balaclava and removed it quickly, his hair flowing free. He carded his front tufts and arranged them quickly, like a reflex. The Frenchman then took a rag and dusted his record-player off. He opened the drawer right under it and took his disks. He selected Sinatra and put it in. He dropped on his armchair and poured himself a glass of wine. He took a sip and without realising, he was staring at the sofa, smiling to himself.

"Meow?"

He raised his eyes and looked at Perle who was sitting in front of the mirror. He then saw his own smile, his half closed eyes and his posture. Spy realised he looked like he was sinking in his armchair. His eyes went back to Perle. She was smiling, she was happy. It had been such a long time since he saw her wear such a pretty smile. He sighed and appreciated the warmth of the nearby fireplace. He felt warm, his shoulders relaxed and slowly, he leant his head back on the armchair as Sinatra sang the first words of his song

"_Strangers in the Night, exchanging glances_

_Wondering in the night what were the chances_

_We'd be sharing love before the night was through!"_

**_\-- Author's notes --_**Thanks for reading :)

As always, let me know what you think in the comments, it helps me to keep on going :)

See y'all around for the next one! :)


	9. Chapter 9

Sniper unpacked his things in his "new" room. His clothes cupboard was half empty but he was used to that. He did not care too much about what he was wearing, as long as it was comfortable and warm. He looked around him. The floor was wooden and creaked under his footsteps. The walls had a beige wallpaper that was turning brown-ish at some places. Sniper scratched his head.

_Really doesn't look like home…_

His eyes moved to the small desk. He had put some framed pictures on it. One showed his parents, another was of him as a child with his father. He was holding a fish in his hands. It was his first time catching such a big one. Of course it wasn't that big but he had been so thrilled by it that his father had got the camera and took a picture of that moment, to remember it.

_Well, I guess I can't do much more than that._

He dropped on his bed and laid there, resting his head on his hands. He rested his eyes for a bit but his mind was buzzing and he couldn't sleep.

Spy's not the only one surprised. Why did I get so chatty with him? Why did I tell him that I played the sax? Also, I'm bloody surprised he actually gave a damn.

He opened his eyes.

_Wait, he was actually the one who invited me to his room in the first place. Why?_

His stomach gurgled and broke his train of thought. Sniper got off his bed and left for the kitchen. As soon as he entered, the warm smell of a vegetable soup filled his lungs and he saw Engie stirring a big pot.

"Oh hey Snipes!"

"Mh."

Scout greeted him but the Australian was still lost in his thoughts and did not give much of an answer. He went to the fridge and got some things out of it. All the mercenaries were slowly gathering around the table and taking their seats.

"Sniper, you should take a seat and have some soup with us, pardner. It's pretty cold and I'm sure it'd do you some good."

Sniper turned and looked down at his shorter colleague.

"S'ppose it won't hurt."

"Great, grab a chair, it'll be ready in a minute."

The Australian sat and locked his eyes on his hands. They were freezing. He put them in front of his mouth and blew on them to warm them up.

"You need gloves Sniper."

The marksman raised his eyes to his big Russian colleague.

"Y-yeah, I guess I do."

He sat next to him.

"Not gloves like those you have. You need gloves with fingertips."

Sniper nodded, still blowing on his hands to get them warmer. Spy entered.

"Good day to you."

"Hallo Herr Spy."

"Not wearing your suit, fancypants?"

He rolled his eyes up.

"Very perceptive of you, Scout."

The masked man sat opposite Sniper. The conversations started between the mercenaries while Pyro and Scout were readying the table.

"Right fellas, careful it's smokin' hot!"

Engie put the pot in the middle of the table. He served his colleagues one by one and finished with his own plate.

"Smells really nice, pal!"

"Thanks, Scout."

They all dived in while continuing their chat.

"You want some advice Sniper? For your gloves. Get thin one but in wool, they're best against cold. And if you're still cold, then bigger ones. But it might be not practical for pulling trigger."

Continued Heavy, with a rough accent.

"Thanks mate, I thought about getting wool ones anyway."

"Da, is good. But remember you want thin not knitted big."

Sniper nodded.

"Hm."

"Your soup is very good Engineer."

Spy said. The Texan raised his head.

"Oh, thanks pardner, I appreciate it."

"In my opinion, it is well balanced. I can still distinguish all the vegetables. None of them are hiding the taste of the others."

Scout rolled his eyes.

"Yeah well then, guess what's inside!"

Spy's lips pursed into a smile.

"You really wanna test'im on that mate?"

Spy's eyes shot to Sniper and then back to Scout.

"Let's see if he's as good as he thinks!"

"Mate, even I can tell you what's in that soup!"

"Go on then!"

"Wait, Sniper. Scout, are you ready to take a bet on this?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Then how much are you ready to wager?"

The young Bostonian man took a second to think.

"Against you, Spy… On Sniper's tasting of a soup… 30 dollars."

"Make it 40, be adventurous!"

The Frenchman was grinning devilishly.

"Alright, 40 bucks for me if he misses one ingredient!"

"Deal."

Sniper took as spoonful of it and smelled it at first, not noticing how intensely the Frenchman was staring.

"Just with the smell I can tell there's potatoes, leeks and onions. The colour tells me that there's either carrots or pumpkin too…"

He put it in his mouth and let it invade his tongue and palate slowly before swallowing it.

"Yeah pumpkin, no carrots and there's a hint of… Uhm… Some kind of herb…"

"You can't guess it?"

Scout's grin was growing bigger and bigger on his face. Sniper panicked, he knew that taste!

_Come on, come on, what's it called again…?_

He looked at Spy in front of him, with his eyes wide open in panic. The Frenchman smiled at him and pulled his sleeve on his left arm up slightly, revealing his watch. He lightly tapped it with his gloved finger. Sniper raised an eyebrow.

Why the bloody hell is he showing me his watch?! Is he in a hurry or some'in'?! He doesn't have time-OH!

"Thyme!"

Sniper shouted excitedly.

"Great job pardner, you got it all!"

"Oh man!"

Sniper smiled and looked at Spy, nodding almost imperceptibly. The Frenchman nodded slightly in return and hid his watch under his sleeve again while he pretended to adjust it.

"See, even Sniper can tell you. Now, eat your soup to grow up, young man!"

Spy said, mocking Scout.

"I'm a grown up already!"

"Oh, my apologies, I haven't noticed."

Scout dived back in his soup, wishing friendly fire was working. Spy smiled.

"I'll get your money after lunch, fancypants."

"No need."

"What?!"

"If Sniper agrees, I will take that look on your face as our sole reward. It is priceless."

Sniper nodded, smiling at his colleague and finished his soup. He stood up and went to the sink to wash his plate when he felt someone behind him. He turned his head and saw Spy with his empty plate.

"I can wash it for you, mate."

"Merci."

Spy winked at him and did a subtle movement of his head towards the direction of the corridor. Sniper understood he was inviting him to his room and nodded.

The Australian washed everyone's dishes and waited for everyone to resume their lives. He opened a cupboard to get some food for Hootsy.

_Bugger, I left his food in the van… Maybe I can ask Spy for some of his cat food..._

_\-- Spy's smoking room --_

There was a shy knock at the door but Spy heard it. Since he got back to his smoking room, he had been restless with impatience. He had sat down and tried to read his magazine to wait. His eyes ran over the pages but were not actually scanning the words. So when the faint knock got to his ears, he jumped out of his armchair, startling Perle, who was laying on the sofa, and went to the door, dusting himself off. He opened the door and Sniper quickly slipped in.

"Uhm, you wanted to see me?"

"Oui, I have something for you. Pray make yourself at home and take a seat on the sofa."

"By the way, can I ask for some of your cat food please?"

Spy turned and looked at his colleague in disgust.

"Bushman?!"

"Nah, not for me! It's for Hootsy. I've ran out of food for him."

Sniper replied, chuckling.

"Ah!"

Spy put a hand on his chest in relief.

"Oui, oui of course. I will give some to you. But please, I have something for you, take a seat."

Sniper obeyed and his eyes followed the Frenchman. He went to the record player and put a disc on.

"Oh, you cleaned it up?"

"Hm-mh."

The music started to play.

"Oh I know that one! That's the Girl from Ipanema and if I'm correct, I think it's the version by Sinatra and Jobim?"

"Exactly!"

Spy sat on the sofa and Perle sat between them.

"Oh that's a real great piece."

"I love Sinatra. His voice is an absolute delight."

"Yeah, that's true."

"That's about the only Bossa Nova piece I know."

"I can show you more of it if you like it."

"Avec plaisir."

[My pleasure.]

They both sat in silence to enjoy the sweet piece of music. It made them both relax. Sniper bent forward and got his hands closer to the fire. Spy got off the sofa and went to his bedroom for an instant. He emerged soon after and the music ended.

"Here, take this."

Sniper raised his head. His colleague was handing him a pair of gloves.

"Oh, but mate they're-"

"Made of Merinos wool and they're very warm. Try them on."

Sniper raised an eyebrow.

"Wait. Why are you like this?"

"What?"

"No offense but it's all a bit too nice to be true."

Spy sat on the couch.

"I mean… You're a spook. And I've seen you deceive and backstab people, you're not s'pposed to be nice. You're usually cold and arrogant and… Not like what you pretend to be now."

Spy looked at his colleague and lowered his head. Perle rose on her paws and stood between both men, facing the Australian.

"Sniper, I am not playing any tricks."

"Then why, hm? You have no reason to do all this! To invite me here, offer me coffee, offer to help me move my things, the record-player. Nah mate, you're planning on something and I'm sitting right in the middle of it for some reason."

Perle looked at her master. He didn't even the heart to look up at his colleague. Sniper got off the couch.

"Tell me. Tell me what you're planning and what role I'm s'pposed to play."

Perle looked at him and hissed, defending her master.

"You can't even admit it to my face. You lyin' spook. And you know I don't like to spend time with people. I rarely go out me van. Look, whatever you want to use me for, just spit it out already, I might just do it for you and then go back to my life."

Spy raised his eyes and frowned. He didn't know what to answer. He did not know what he was planning with his colleague. He did not know why he was doing all that. He stood up and as the Australian was walking to the door, he felt something inside him shatter. It hurt.

The Australian went to the door, took his coat under his arm and left, slamming the door behind him. He went straight to his room and locked himself up.

Meanwhile, in his smoking room, Spy resumed his seat on his armchair. He stared at the fire. He remembered the photo of that woman burning. He felt the same rage. The anger that one feels after repeating a mistake yet another time.

"Meow."

Perle jumped on her master's lap.

"Peut-être que je ne peux même pas avoir d'amis. Peut-être que c'est ça ma peine. Vivre dans la solitude."

[Maybe I just cannot make friends. Maybe that's my punishment. To live in solitude.]

Perle stood on her back legs and brushed her head on her master's mouth. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

"Ce n'est pas grave, au moins je t'ai toi."

[It's not an issue, at least I have you.]

He closed his eyes and heard her purr almost silently, like a whisper.

_Mais pourquoi lui?_

[_But why him?]_

He broke the hug to look at his faithful companion.

"Je ne sais pas. J'en ai assez de cette solitude. Je veux pouvoir trouver quelqu'un à qui parler. Je veux ressentir ce que je ressentais avant elle, avant tout. J'en ai assez d'être la moitié de l'homme que j'étais."

[I don't know. I've had enough of this solitude. I want to find someone I can talk to. I want to feel what I felt before her, before everything. I've had enough of being half the man I was.]

_Ça ne répond pas à la question. Pourquoi lui?_

_[It does not answer the question. Why him?]_

Spy looked at Perle in her big blue eyes. He sighed and lowered his head. She brushed her head on him again and he resumed the hug.

\-- _Sniper's room --_

The Australian had slammed his door shut and locked it. He threw his coat on the desk and laid on the bed.

_Bloody bogan… Stupid bloody Spy… He can go to hell. I'll stay in me room or join the rest of the people in the living room._

He thought about the never-ending banter between Demo and Solly, the loud Scout. He grimaced and removed his glasses. He put a hand on his forehead and let it sink to rub his eyes and slid it on his cheeks and finished with his chin.

_I can feel the headache comin' just thinkin' about it. Ugh, I'll stay locked up here._

"Hoo?"

"Oh hey Hootsy."

The owl fully opened his big round eyes as he landed on his master's chest.

"Hoo!"

"Mate, I'm not up for games."

The owl tilted his head.

"Well yeah, I went to see him but I think he's planning something. I mean he can't be just nice, can he?"

His pet bird moved to Sniper's pocket on his trousers, on the left side and started pecking it.

"Oi, what do you think you're doin' there mate? I don't have anything for you."

Sniper pushed his friend aside and sitting up, he put a hand in his pocket.

"Actually I asked him if he could lend me some of Pearl's food for-uh…"

The marksman got something out of his pocket. He pulled it out and put it in his hand.

"Bloody hell, how did he-?"

A black wool glove was in the palm of Sniper's hand. Hootsy had pulled the second one from his master's pocket and was carrying it in his beak. The Australian sighed and Hootsy put the second glove in his palm, on top of the first one.

"Oh you want me to try them on too now?"

He said, half annoyed. He looked at the bird.

"Roight."

He slid his first hand in and it came as a flash. He remembered that touch. When did he feel that again?

C'mon think, where was it…?

He got startled by the memory as it came back to him like a tsunami.

When I handed him Perle back, in the van. That's when I touched his hand briefly and I felt it!

He put the other one on and flexed his fingers repeatedly.

_A bit tight but I like it, and definitely quite warm…_

"Hoo?"

"Yes, yeah your food. I need to go for the van to get it. Roight…"

Sniper got off his bed and looked at Hootsy.

"You be a good boy, I'll just be a minute."

The Australian grabbed his coat and opened the door. He tripped on something on the floor. He lowered his eyes. A plastic bag. He crouched down and took it, looking left and right to see who could have left it there. No one. He grabbed it and came back in his room, closing the door. Sniper opened the bag and inside was some cat food as well as treats. There was a piece of torn out paper. He took it and read the cursive dark blue ink.

"Dear Sniper,

You forgot this and what's in your left pocket. My apologies, I did not mean to cause you any trouble, I will leave you in peace.

Signed: Spy."

Hootsy had jumped in the plastic bag and was happily having dinner.

_Yeah well, leave me alone ya spook._

The Australian got rid of his coat and laid on his bed. He watched his feathery companion eat until he could not carry his eyelids anymore. Hootsy flew to him and curled up in his neck and took a nap with his master.

"Spy."

"What?"

"I need to tell you something."

They both sat on the sofa.

"I am all ears."

"The other day, I saw you."

The Frenchman raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"That evening after the rounds that we won. I saw you… Well… I saw you dance in your flat and…"

The Frenchman gritted his teeth.

"D-don't worry, I didn't see your face or anythin', I swear. But yeah I-"

"You pervert, you watched me in the privacy of my flat?! Where from?!"

Sniper put a hand behind his neck.

"Ah, uh, the window, from outside."

"Bushman!"

He looked furious.

"I'm sorry, it's just that-"

"Do I go and spy on you in your van?! Non! I don't! I could and if I did you'd know nothing about it, you would not suspect a thing! I could watch you while you clean your rifles, I could watch you…"

Sniper covered his ears with his hands but the angry voice with the French accent went on.

"I could watch you clean your mess of a van! I could watch you eat!"

Spy's face turned darker and darker. Only his piercing eyes were shining like two blue flames in the dead of night.

"I could watch you sleep! I could see your dreams and nightmares!"

Spy raised his black arms up slowly, the stripes of his suit were shining in bright red.

"Maybe I already did haha!"

He laughed like the devil, with all his white sharp teeth, glimmering like the blades of the short knives he likes so much. Sniper gasped.

"What d'you mean?!"

Spy smirked, his eyebrows closing on his eyes.

"I know what secrets you keep, _Mundy_."

The Australian opened wide eyes. His breath stopped. He felt hot, his sweat dripping on his brow.

"No… No you can't…"

The Frenchman who now was taller and wider than Sniper, looked down on him.

"Oh yes, I can."

He reached in his inner pocket and got his revolver out, aiming it at Sniper's heart. The Australian felt the cold metallic barrel touch his naked skin. He looked down and realised he was indeed naked in front of his gigantic and dark colleague. The Frenchman laughed loudly and his laughter echoed in Sniper's head repeatedly, louder and louder.

BOOM!

He had pulled the trigger and the bullet pierced through the defenseless Mundy who got pushed back by it. He felt it, like a dagger through his body, shattering bones and ripping muscles apart. He got pushed back and landed on the floor, his back on the ground. He wanted to argue, to talk back but how could he? The Frenchman knew. He just… He knew. The shame was killing Mundy already and in that respect, it made the bullet less harmful. Spy took a step forward and looked at Sniper on the ground. He was still grinning and aimed the gun at his chest again.

**_\-- Author's notes --_**

Thanks for reading!

As always, comments are greatly appreciated :D

And thanks to Deathtothecrows for their editing work :D, go check out their work!

See y'all for 10!


	10. Chapter 10

Mundy closed his eyes as each second that passed made him closer to his end.

BOOM!

He opened his eyes and saw the Frenchman with his revolver pointing towards the dark sky of the night. Spy crouched and put his hand on Sniper's chest. The latter shivered as he felt the velvet glove on his naked skin. He watched the Frenchman's hand clench and then open. The bullet that Sniper had felt going through his skin was shining in the palm of Spy's gloved hand.

"Did you just-"

Sniper's eyes crossed as Spy put his gloved finger on his lips. He shrank back to his normal size and got his nice red suit back. His skin lightened but his teeth were still pearly white and his eyes, of a shade of blue that Sniper could not- No. Too soon.

"Ssshhh…"

The Frenchman got his head closer to the Australian who blushed intensely as he felt his colleague's tie brush his skin on his chest, moving up and up. Spy was smirking, he whispered.

"Sniper?"

"Y-yeah?"

Mundy was petrified. He didn't know what he hoped or wanted anymore and so he decided to not even ask himself those questions.

BOOM!

The Frenchman's smile faded and his body collapsed on Mundy's.

"Spy? SPY, NO!"

BOOM!

"AAAH!"

Sniper woke up. He was in sweat again. He looked around him, blinking repeatedly.

"Blimey… One of those nightmares again…"

Boom!

"What the hell…? The gunshot was real!"

Sniper jumped out of his bed and looked through his window. He saw a silhouette but it was so far away that it looked too small for him to know who it was. He rushed to his cupboard and grabbed a rifle.

_Now with the scope, I should be able to see…_

He looked through the scope and saw a thin man, quite tall, a revolver in his hand shooting in front of him. Sniper moved his line of sight to see what the man was shooting at. There was a small wall of snow and on it, several tin cans.

_What the hell…?_

The Australian put the rifle away and decided to investigate further. He put on his coat and wrapped the scarf around his face. He took his hat and exited his room.

As soon as he opened the building's front door, he saw the footprints of the man who was standing outside. Long and slim feet.

_Oh, bugger…_

Sniper knew who he would find but went anyway. He followed the footprints and it lasted a couple minutes before arriving behind the gunman.

"Leave me alone."

Without turning his back, Spy had heard him coming.

"Spy, what the bloody hell are you doing?! It's freezin' and you're standin' here like a bloody idiot shooting tin cans, why?!"

"This is none of your concern, Bushman. Now I did say I would not annoy you anymore and I will ask you to do the same."

Sniper closed the gap between him and his colleague. Spy still gave his back to him and pulled the trigger. He missed the tin can.

"It's your wrist."

"What?!"

"Your wrist, you wanker, you're putting too much stress on it."

Spy sighed, annoyed.

"I know it's to compensate for the recoil, but that's not how you should do it. Have you tried shooting with both your hands on the gun?"

"O-oui, but my aim is much worse. I was trained to use only one hand."

"Can I?"

Sniper extended his hand and laid it flat next to Spy's. The Frenchman noticed that his colleague was wearing the gloves he had given him. It softened his heart slightly and he put his Ambassador in his colleague's hand.

"Oh wow, I had never noticed the engraving on the barrel, beautiful…"

Sniper was looking at the gun, noticing the engraving of a woman on the barrel.

"Bushman?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry… Look here, you hold it like that… And that's why all the weight is on the wrist! But if you hold it like that… See how I shifted the weight from the wrist to here?"

Spy listened carefully and nodded.

"Now, try it."

Sniper put the gun back in the Frenchman's hand.

"Like this?"

"Not exactly, you want to have your thumb a bit more in that direction… Uh… I can't really find the right words…"

"Say it in French then?"

The Australian looked down at his colleague who slowly turned. Spy was smiling.

"Believe me, if I could, I would. But last time I spoke French, it was at school and I was horrible at it."

While talking, Sniper had actually put his gloved hands on Spy's and was adjusting the position of his fingers.

"There you go, that's how you should hold it. Now try with that can again."

Boom!

"Merde, I missed again. You're a terrible shooting teacher."

"I'm as good a shooting teacher as you're a French one. Move your palm slightly… Like that. Try again."

"Hey! I can teach you French, why do you say that?!"

Boom!

The tin can flew.

"You just said _merde_. Now I'm bad at French but I know what that means!"

Spy turned completely to face the taller man.

"Oh in that case, _je vous prie, Monsieur, d'accepter mes excuses les plus plates!"_

"Whot?! What's all that mean?!"

"It means 'excuse me', but in a polite fashion."

"You Frenchies are another species…!"

"Says the one who eats Marmite?!"

"It's Vegemite we eat ya _spooky wanker!_ Marmite's the British one."

"Whatever, it's absolutely appalling."

"Have you ever tried it?"

"Of course I did, _imbécile_. It seems we can't find any other thing to spread on toasts for breakfast in your country, you kiwi!"

"Oh God, the kiwi are people from New Zealand you idiot, I'm an Aussie!"

They looked at each other in a second of silence and burst out laughing.

"My apologies, Bushman. And thank you for the advice on shooting."

"Bah, it's alroight. I'm also sorry. It's just so weird for you to be…"

"Nice?"

"Yeah."

Spy turned his back to aim at another tin can.

"Believe it or not, behind the mask, there is a human being."

"Really?"

Sniper was obviously joking.

"Bushman?!"

The Australian laughed.

"Sorry mate, couldn't let the opportunity fly by."

"Fair enough. But yes…"

Boom! Another tin can flew.

"...I am a human being and… This sun is killing my sight! How comes we have snow all the way up to our knees but the sun is blinding me!"

"There…"

Sniper took off his hat and put it on Spy's head.

"... you whiny baguette."

"You Marmite toasted kiwi."

"Whot?!"

Boom! Another tin can flew.

"Spook, I told you-"

"I know, I know, Marmite is English and kiwi, from New Zealand. But as long as you insult me, why wouldn't I annoy you too?"

He turned and Sniper saw his smirk. The Frenchman was also wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh, roight. Is that what we're doing now, hm? Gimme yer gun."

Spy obeyed.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Sniper shot the remaining cans.

"There, try and beat that."

"Oh, is that a challenge, Bushman?"

"Yeah, yeah it is, Spook."

"Help me collect the cans back and I'll show you."

They walked around to gather the tin cans that were scattered around the small snow wall. Their banter wasn't interrupted.

"There you go, _Baguette Knife._"

"Merci, _Headshot Man._ Now, let me try this."

They both walked away from the snow wall.

"Oi, don't cheat, I was standing farther than that!"

"Bien, d'accord."

[Alright, alright.]

The Frenchman took a couple of extra steps back.

"There. Is the Bushman satisfied with the distance?"

"Yes, Mister Spook. Now go ahead and try."

Spy adjusted the hat on his head so that it was blocking the sun from his eyes.

"Uh uh uh! I didn't have my hat to shield me from the sun!"

Sniper took his hat back. Spy turned and tried to take it back, he jumped but the taller man raised his arm up and the Frenchman couldn't reach it.

"Nah! You can't have it!"

"D'accord…"

[Right…]

Spy turned and faced the row of tin cans. He stood proudly, his legs firmly in the snow. He reloaded his revolver and took a deep breath, raising his gun.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

All the tin cans flew.

"Aha! What do you say to that Bushman!?"

"Whot I say…?"

He bent to put his lips next to Spy's ears and whispered.

"_I'm a bloody good teacher_."

"Bushman?!"

"What?! It's true, you can't deny it!"

"Rrrr… _Roight_!"

"Did you just-?!"

Sniper opened wide eyes.

"Yes, that's one of my quirks, I can imitate people."

"Wow, I wasn't expectin' this."

"_Nah, I know you didn't, you wanka_."

"Oi!"

Spy's smile was very wide and he winked at his colleague.

"Don't get angry Bushman, please, I'm just playing with you."

"Yeah nah, it's fine."

"Let's get the cans and go back inside."

"Roight."

\-- Spy's smoking room --

Both men had had a change to get rid of the soaking trousers and socks. They were now sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace and were enjoying the soft warmth of the flames.

"I need to thank you, Spook."

"Hm?"

"For the food for Hootsy and the gloves."

Spy smiled.

"You're welcome. And I thank you for the shooting lessons."

"_Duh rian."_

The Frenchman turned his head to face Sniper.

"Isn't that how you say 'you're welcome'?"

"Oui, it is. We say 'De rien'. I'm just surprised."

"Ah, _de rien."_

"Très bien!"

[Very well!]

Silence fell for an instant.

"There was this woman."

Sniper opened wide eyes.

"She… She was important, very much so."

Perle jumped on the sofa and laid next to her master.

"We shared our lives for a moment that I wished could be our lifetime. But I made a mistake and paid dearly. She left me."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be. I guess I deserved it."

The Frenchman paused for a second.

"When we got together, I thought '_That's it, my life will make sense now.'_ I thought I would quit my position as a spy, go and settle with her, why not give her children. It turned out she played with me. I trusted her blindly. Oui, you may smile, you may laugh."

"Why would I?"

"You would be right to."

Spy extended his hands towards the fireplace.

"Ironic for a spy to trust anyone when _he_ is the one who shouldn't be trusted. But I was in love and young and thus, stupid. It turns out, I was only a distraction from her husband. I had seen some evidence of it but turned a blind eye to it. I was so deeply in love…"

The Frenchman put a hand on his chest and clenched it. It pained Sniper who started to indeed understand that he had misjudged him dramatically.

"I told my boss it would be my last mission and I had given him my resignation letter."

"Wow…"

"Time went by and she finally got to be honest with me. A day before my resignation, she left and I found nothing more than a handwritten note that said farewell."

"I-I'm sorry mate…"

"I got back to the Minister of Defense and tore my letter of resignation apart in front of him. I asked him to send me on foreign missions. So I travelled the world and drowned my pain in work, alcohol and cigarettes. I became France's best secret agent. The Minister wanted me to bodyguard him, he even asked _my advice_ on some matters."

"Bloody hell…"

Spy turned his head to face his colleague.

"To this day I am still one of his closest friends and I still have good connections with the Ministry of Defense in general. But during those years travelling around, I became more and more convinced of one thing. Not to get into too much details but I had love interests here and there, one night stands mostly. None of them I felt a quarter of what I had felt with her. The feeling of being able to completely lose yourself to someone. I had felt so free with her, as if I had jumped from a plane without a parachute and expecting her to be my safety net. But I got too close to the ground and I had fallen with my eyes closed, I didn't realise that non, there was no safety net. I hit the ground at full speed and every bone in my body shattered to smithereens. My very soul smashed like a crystal glass. So I made a decision. From that moment on, I shall not ever feel anything for anyone. I shall just…"

"Protect yourself? Cut your feelin's short? Refuse to feel that spark anymore?"

Spy's jaw dropped.

"O-oui…"

Sniper put a hand on his shoulder.

"I know the feelin' mate. I've never had such a strong story with anyone. Sheilas would get with me because they think I'm just a poet. Someone who lives in a van, going from place to place, spending my nights using the starry sky as my blanket. Well, that's true. But the truth is I just like it and don't think much of it, and I have a good connection with animals. They understand me much better than people."

"I agree."

Sniper raised his eyes and looked into the flames dancing on the surface of the Frenchman's eyes.

"Perle is the only friend I have had after that woman. She's the one who mended me, the one who-"

"-stayed up at night with ya while you can't sleep or while you cry, or maybe you prefer to kill and shred everything around you?"

"Actually both. I can get angry very quickly. And if I cry, it is out of rage."

Sniper got closer to Spy on the sofa and kept his hand on the Frenchman's shoulder.

"Look mate, when did all that happen?"

"A long time ago. Too long. But my mind is stuck there and sometimes I find myself sad again, like the day I found that note."

"Hm."

Silence fell where only Perle's purring could be heard. She brushed herself on her master to try and comfort him.

"Look Sniper, I just thought we could try and be friends. Pardon me if I was too… awkward, trying to be friendly with you. I did not mean to cause any harm or trouble to you. I understand you are a solitary man and you might prefer the company of Hootsy and your own self. My apologies for the inconvenience, really."

"Spook?"

"Hm?"

"Look at me."

Spy raised his eyes.

"You're an idiot."

Spy lowered his head.

"You're a bloody idiot. And yeah it was very awkward. I genuinely thought you were up to some'in'. But!"

The Frenchman raised his head again.

"I am not as solitary as you think. I have some friends back in Australia not many, but some good ones. I like to spend time with them. But Spook, that's not how you get friends, especially since you're the bloody Spy here, which means no one feels like they can trust you."

"I-I guess I just have forgotten how to make friends. And the solitude is killing me. Actually, I have been dead since that woman left. I've never really had a laugh or joked with anyone. She killed me, that woman. What the early days and years of my life didn't manage to do, what the war didn't manage to do, what my spy training and missions didn't do, she single-handedly did."

"Forget about it mate. You've lost enough time not bein' happy. And that's stupid. Find some'in' you like and do it."

Sniper curled his arm behind Spy's back and the Frenchman moved to sit closer to the Australian.

"We need ya to be a good Spook against the BLU. So if all you need is a bit of company, I'm here."

"Really?"

"Yeah but you gotta be honest and not play spook games with me ok?"

Spy was on another planet with happiness.

"I will try my best Bushman."

"Also, if you're honest with me, I guess I have to be honest with you too."

The Frenchman raised an eyebrow.

"The other day, after work when I came to bring Perle back to you, you remember?"

"Oui."

"Well I came at your door and was about to knock when… I mean… I… Please tell me you're not going to be angry at me."

Spy frowned.

"Oui, go ahead."

"I heard some music playing in your flat and… I heard you sing."

Spy's eyes opened wide and he straightened his back, freeing himself from Sniper's arm.

"D-don't worry, I-I didn't tell anyone and nobody knows about it, I swear! Originally I came here just to give you Perle! But…"

Sniper put his hand behind his neck and looked down. He couldn't face the gaze of his friend.

"I got curious… So I went outside and 'round the buildin'. I stood there, in the snow and I saw you… dance."

"Sniper-"

"No, please, wait, let me tell you what-"

"Shut up! You ask me to be honest with you _when you spy on me?!?"_

Spy's voice hit Sniper in the face like a slap.

_Bugger, it's like in my nightmare…_

"No, I didn't mean to, I-"

"Mon Dieu…"

Spy put his hand on his eyes to rub them. He was frowning.

"So I guess you saw me without my mask then."

He asked very coldly.

"No, I didn't. You were givin' your back to the window and when you turned, I went away and didn't look."

Spy removed the hand from his eyes.

"You did what?"

"I then went to give you Perle back."

"Non, before that, you did what?!"

Spy's voice grew louder.

"I was there at your window!"

Sniper answered, shouting at him too.

"Non, _imbécile_! You looked away when I faced the window?!"

"Yeah you idiot!"

"WHY?"

Spy got closer to Sniper's face, yelling and gritting his teeth. The Australian was equally furious and roared back.

"SAME REASON WHY I'M TELLIN' YOU ALL THAT!"

"WHY?!"

"I BLOODY RESPECT YOU, YOU WANKAH!!"

Spy opened wide eyed and breathed heavily. He felt his heart race in his ribcage. His face was an inch away from Sniper's. The Australian's eyebrows had frowned but he relaxed and breathed quick and short bits of air. His heart was racing too. They moved back from each other.

"You're about the only one here I can stand. Remember when we listened to Sinatra?"

Spy nodded.

"You did somethin' that I really appreciated."

"I did nothing, I didn't even speak, Bushman."

"Exactly. You just enjoyed the music, in silence. And it felt normal. It didn't feel awkward at all."

Spy raised an eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that. If I'd been listening with anyone else, they'd either talk on top of the music or they'd be sittin' there awkwardly silent."

Spy turned and looked at the fire. He realised that Sniper was right, very much so. And when was the last time he enjoyed some music with a friend like that? He couldn't even remember. The Frenchman turned to face his colleague and looked him in the eye.

"Merci, vraiment, merci beaucoup. And I'm delighted to know you."

[Thank you, really, thank you very much.]

Sniper turned and saw his colleague looking him straight in the eye with his naked hand extended towards him. Sniper took the hand and shook it, giving his colleague a big smile.

"Nice to meet you too…"

Spy smiled too and his cheeks went pink.

"...ya spook!"

"Hey!"

Spy removed his hand and gently shoved Sniper with his elbow.

"Haha!"

"No but seriously, thanks."

"What for?"

"For everything."

Spy didn't say the whole sentence but thought about it. He had meant to say:

'_For everything, and before I ruin it.'_

**_\-- Author's notes -- _**

Thanks for reading :)

As always, comments are my fuel :)

And many thanks to Deathtothecrows for editing my chapters to make the English better! :D


	11. Chapter 11

The weeks passed smoothly and the cooperation between the mercenaries was growing stronger. The only thing is that it had developed in the BLU team too. But it was a nice challenge for both teams and all the mercs appreciated it.

After work, Spy and Sniper spent more time together. The Frenchman was exchanging wine-tasting lessons against lessons in the classics of the Bossa Nova genre. Sniper even accepted to play the saxophone for his friend, to accompany the disks. However, the Frenchman refused to sing for him. The Australian never really understood why but he sort of just rolled with it.

It was now Friday, a couple weeks after their handshake. Sniper had made quite some progress in French as well as wine tasting and Spy was proud of him. On the other hand, the Frenchman knew a good basic library of Bossa Nova songs.

\-- _Spy's suite, Friday after battle session --_

Spy was standing in front of the sink in his bathroom. He looked at himself intensely. He noticed his hair had grown longer and was curling at the end.

_Ah, tant que ça tient sous le masque…__[Bah, as long as it fits under the mask…]_

The Frenchman ran his fingers on his cheeks.

_Ça pique, je dois me raser._

[_It stings slightly, I need to shave.]_

And so he got busy. He put some shaving foam on his cheeks and took his razor blade. He didn't like those fancy multi-blade razors that they sold nowadays. He much preferred the old style single blade. He let it glide smoothly on his cheeks and looked at his reflection but his mind was somewhere else. He was on auto-pilot while his mind was busy with other matters.

_Sniper_.

"Meow?"

He looked behind him on the mirror and saw Perle walking towards him. She jumped on the counter next to the sink. She was staring at him shaving.

_Il a beaucoup progressé en dégustation de vin._

[_He has made a lot of progress in the wine-tasting field.]_

He saw the past couple of weeks he had spent with him flash before his eyes.

"Tell me what you taste in this one."

Sniper was sitting on the sofa and Spy on the sofa's arm rest next to him. The Australian smelled the wine first.

"That's an excellent start."

"But I didn't say anythin'?!"

"Non, but you started by smelling it. Ideally you want to take a good look first. A good wine is like a good book. It touches all your senses. The colour of the wine, how it absorbs and reflects light, it is all crucial."

"Oh…"

"Also, you don't hold your glass correctly."

Spy bent slightly and putting his thin gloved fingers on the Australian's, he moved them like a puppeteer with his puppet.

"Voilà, much better. Now look and tell me what you see."

"It's red."

"Yes and?"

"Well that's all I see, mate."

"Compare it with this one."

Sniper took both glasses and looked at them.

"This one looks a bit darker."

"Shake the glass slightly, in circles and observe how it wets the surface of the glass. Do you notice any difference?"

Sniper crossed his eyes and Spy even saw him stick his tongue out. It softened the Frenchman's heart. He had noticed on several occasions that his friend, without realising it, acted like a child in a fully grown man's body. It revealed his simple nature and Spy could hardly admit it, but he appreciated that dearly. Sniper was very kind-hearted and naive in his own way.

"Hm… This one sticks more to the glass."

"Indeed, it is a bit more viscous, good, good. Now, second step is the smell."

Sniper got the glass closer to his nose and smelled both.

"This one smells more like soil and this one.. like, well, it will sound stupid but…"

"Non, go on, say what you want."

"I was gonna say it smells more like grapes…"

"That is far from stupid, mon ami, it is an excellent remark. Anything else?"

"Hm… Nah, not really."

"Fine, now-"

"Should I listen to it?"

"What?!"

"You said _all the senses."_

The Australian was obviously pulling his friend's leg.

"Sniper…"

"Or maybe I should touch'em? Maybe that'll tell me somethin'?"

Spy sighed and shook his head.

"Or maybe talk to them? See what they answer?"

"Sniper…"

"Alroight, alroight, sorry mate…"

Spy smiled.

"It is fine."

"Told you I was a bad student."

"Yes and I asked you to be honest with me, Bushman."

"What do you mean?"

"You lied to me."

Sniper's smile faded on his lips.

"Whot?!"

"You told me you were a bad student and that is clearly wrong."

Spy answered in a very soft voice which made Sniper open big round pupils.

"No it's not, I've always been bad at school, or not as good as other kids."

"Another lie. You are exceptionally gifted, mon ami. What you just said to me, people take years of training to get it. And you? You just said it straight away. You're not a bad student, you just don't need teaching at all, or rather, you just need to be taught a bit of method."

Sniper looked intensely at his colleague and blushed.

"Oh, uh, I… I mean you, uh, ah, well I'm uh…"

Spy smiled. Each time he made a compliment to his friend, however small it might be, the man completely lost his ability to build a sentence that made sense.

"I'm sorry, I kinda lost me words."

"It's fine. Say it in French then!"

"Well, uh… Merci, I guess."

Spy nodded.

"De rien. But you still haven't tasted anything, so go ahead."

"Which one should I start with?"

"The one you're holding in your right hand. Do you know why?"

The Australian shook his head. Spy took the other one in his hand.

"Because of its lighter colour, you can infer that its taste will be less strong and you always want to go from light to strong. Also remember that you don't want to swallow it, you want to keep it in your mouth and then spit it out there, in that bowl."

"Wait whot? Why wouldn't I just drink it?! Isn't it what it's made for? Or is it too expensive for that?"

Spy rolled his eyes up, smiling nonetheless.

"Bushman, you end up drunk if you just swallow all of it."

"But it's just a mouthful-"

"Of wine, this is not beer. It contains more alcohol and we don't want a drunk or hungover Headshot Man tomorrow on the battlefield."

"Fair enough. So I take it in my mouth, keep it there for a while and then spit it out there?"

"Oui, also, while you have it in your mouth, make sure to let it invade everywhere in your mouth. Let the wine hug your tongue, wrap it in its embrace and let all the flavours come to you."

While he said that, Spy got carried away and wrapped his arms around himself…

"There are two schools then. Those who start with tasting the combinations of all the flavours at once, and those who start step by step."

"How do _you_ do it?"

"I belong to the second school. But it requires a bit of focus. Close your eyes."

The Australian obeyed.

"Don't steal me money eh?"

"Bushman…"

"Sorry… _Baguette Knife."_

Spy sighed and facepalmed.

"Do you feel your tongue in your mouth?"

"Where else would it be?"

_Bugger!_

Sniper had said that without thinking about it much but then a voice in his head screamed and he got hot all of a sudden. On Spy's side of things, the Frenchman blushed and his ears went hot. He wished he could remove his mask as the heat was getting to him. He mastered his voice so that it didn't show any emotion.

"Now, focus on the tip of your tongue… Do you feel it? That's what tells you if a wine is closer to the lower or the upper bound for its concentration in alcohol, also it tells you about the acidity of it… Relax the tip of your tongue now, switch it off, and focus on the sides of it, the edges on the right and left. Those will tell you about the fruitiness."

Spy was staring at his friend while talking. He looked so defenseless with his eyes closed… The Frenchman couldn't help but tilt his head slightly and still stare at Sniper.

"Now the surface on the top, that tells you about the soil in which the grapes grow, it's quite tricky and very complicated. Often people only get part of the information. Soils are very diverse and very intricate, making them thus very hard to tell apart. And finally under your tongue is where you naturally absorb the fastest and it doesn't tell you anything about the taste. So try and not get the wine to stay there too long as you will absorb the nutrients in it but also the alcohol and if your aim is to get drunk, then you're welcome to spend your evenings with Demoman."

"Nah, that's ok thanks, I much prefer it here with you, mate."

Spy smiled and blushed slightly again.

"Likewise, Bushman. But remember, do not have any prejudice on whatever you're tasting. It's exactly like when you meet someone. You don't want to misjudge them, you want to give them a chance to show who they are, all the aspects of them."

Sniper blushed in shame. That's exactly what he had done with Spy. Have prejudice. But since then and through the past couple days, he had learnt to know the Frenchman better. Also, it had helped him massively to overcome his uneasiness with the rest of the mercenaries. Now, he was able to have most lunches and dinners with the rest of his colleagues without feeling overwhelmed by them. He also bore the noise much better and actually exchanged much and much better with the others. That friendship with Spy had brought him that, at least.

"Before you go ahead, when you spit out the wine, don't wash your mouth straight away. You want to leave it there and use your nose again. Both your nose and mouth are connected and help each other when it comes to tasting so make sure to use all your mouth and all your nose to get all the information. Now, you may proceed."

Sniper obeyed and blinked a couple of times. Part of him wanted to remain with his eyes closed and listen to his friend talk. Spy could talk about anything and he managed to make it interesting to the Australian!

"Roight, now, let's go for wine number one."

Sniper took a sip of it and closed his eyes. He played the sound of Spy's voice again in his head and followed his instructions. He let the dark liquid flow and settle everywhere around his tongue and palate. He frowned sightly then his face relaxed completely. He opened his eyes and spat it out. He wiped his mouth with the tea towel that his friend handed him.

"I can't really decide what words are best to describe that one. Can I have the other one and then compare?"

"But of course! First, you wash your mouth with that glass of water… There, perfect, now, here you go."

Spy watch his friend go through the same routine again.

"That one seems less strong somehow… Oh wait I know, it has less alcohol. But the first one is more fruity, definitely. Also, the second one tasted more like earth, like leaves and things like that."

"I am astounded."

"What? Did I get it all wrong?"

"Non! On the contrary! Everything you just said was insanely correct!"

"Meow?"

Perle's meow broke Spy's day dreaming. He zoned back to the present day and his shaving. He washed his face and took his shower. A couple minutes after, he dressed up and put his mask back on, waiting for his friend to knock on the door as he usually did now. Meanwhile he put a disk on his record-player and sat on his armchair. He had an awful lot of catching up to do with his magazine but he much preferred it that way. Having a friend was infinitely better than killing his evening reading whatever petty journalists had to come up with…

_Knock, knock, knock._

Spy threw the magazine back on the small table and jumped out of his seat. He quickly went to the door and opened.

"Bonsoir Sniper… Oh, hello Hootsy."

"Bonsoir, Spy."

The taller man came in and hung his hat up on the coat hanger.

"You almost made me wait, Bushman."

"Ah, sorry mate, I had my folks on the phone."

They both sat on the couch, next to each other.

"Your parents you mean?"

"Yeah. They asked me if I was gonna be back for Christmas and I had to tell them I had to stay here."

"Oh…"

"I mean we have a week off but it's not worth flying back home and be horribly jet-lagged for just a week."

"Fair enough."

"You got any family, Baguette Knife?"

"Non, I'm afraid. I'm alone as far as I know."

"Oh, so you spend your Christmas with friends usually?"

Spy diverted his gaze from his friend.

"Not really, I usually don't celebrate Christmas."

"That's sad mate."

"Well, life has never been pleasant and seldom offered me anything. I've never understood the concept of pretending everything is nice and glamourous for a month and then go back to one's dull life."

"Have you never had presents when you were a kid? Have you ever decorated a Christmas tree?"

Spy shook his head.

"Sniper, one of the reasons why I am good at my job is that I don't have family ties."

The Australian opened wide eyes of surprise.

"I-I'm sorry, mate."

Silence fell in the smoking room and was only interrupted by the crackling of the flames in the fireplace.

"I'm takin' you tomorrow."

"What?"

"Tomorrow, you come with me. I'll drive you to a supermarket or somethin' and we'll get you some Christmas things, a tree, decorations, lights and a jumper."

"Sniper…"

"I was gonna go anyway 'cause I need to get some stuff myself."

"Bushman…"

Sniper looked at his friend and took him by his shoulders.

"Spook, this year you'll celebrate Christmas properly."

The Frenchman sighed.

"Last time I did celebrate it,-"

"Forget her for the love of God!"

Spy opened wide eyes.

"I know it hurts but you can't spend your time thinkin' about her or comparin' your present life to what it was with her!"

"Actually, since I've been spending my evening teaching you things and learning about others, I've thought about her much less."

"Oh…"

Sniper released his grip on his friend's shoulders. He smiled.

"I'm glad then. I-I just… Mate, you need to be happy and that's what Christmas is about. Now, if you really are against it, I won't force you. But it's such a shame, I promise I'll make you have a good time. And you know me, I'm not big on parties and things like that. But c'mon, please Spook…"

Spy looked at his friend. Sniper had that irresistible charm of a kitten with big round eyes and dilated pupils. The Frenchman could not but accept. He did not want to make his friend sad.

"D'accord, I will follow you…"

"Really?"

"Oui, but please, don't tell anyone and don't drag anyone else with us."

"O'course and I wasn't goin' to. I hate to go shopping. I go when I absolutely have to but I can't stand it. Too many people and they're everywhere around swarmin' like ants. When I go there, I make my trip as fast as possible so don't worry."

"That's not my issue. I fear I will feel bad when I'm faced with those things again."

Sniper gave him a sweet smile and turned to face the fireplace. He curled his arm behind Spy who moved a bit closer to his friend.

"Don't worry, I'll be with you."

Sniper cupped his friend's shoulder and pulled him close. The Frenchman was tempted to let his head rest on the marksman's shoulder. He was not just tempted, he _craved_ it. He nonetheless resisted it.

"Spy, you asked me to be honest with you so I'll say it."

Spy held his breath.

"I really appreciate that side of ya. You never show that you're actually much less confident and arrogant than you seem. But gettin' to know you, I learnt that you're a normal bloke. You got your story, which is not a light one as far as I can tell, you got your things you're not confident about."

Sniper paused.

_Should I say it?_

He felt his heart beat faster.

_Screw it, I'm gonna say it, he must hear my stressed out heartbeat anyway now…_

"I… I mean uh, well, you, hm… "

"Breathe, Sniper."

The Australian took a deep breath.

"I like that you trust me that much. I feel like you don't do that often."

"It's true. I rarely trust people. And you know what happened last time I did."

"Won't happen again. I said I'd be honest with you."

Spy couldn't resist it anymore and let his head rest on his friend's shoulder. He waited a second to see how the marksman would react. The Frenchman's eyes were locked on the flames and he gritted his teeth as he felt hot from his toes to his very hair. His whole body tensed up. He waited for the moment when Sniper would push him back, withdraw his arm, be offended, shout at him. Each fraction of a second was heavier as he felt the marksman would reject him imminently.

Sniper's reaction: he rested his head on Spy's and brushed his shoulder with his hand.

_Mon Dieu, combien j'en avais besoin!_

[_My God, how much have I been craving this?!]_

Spy's entire body relaxed and he closed his eyes, rolling them up and smiling in happiness. His eyebrow rose and he felt things he thought he wouldn't feel anymore. His head was under Sniper's chin, in his neck, and he could smell his cheap cologne. He liked that smell, oh how he liked it. His stomach was buzzing with the million butterflies that took off in unison, flapping their colourful wings under the clear blue sky.

**_\-- Author's notes -- _**

Thanks for reading!

As always, let me know what you think of this one please, it really helps me go forward!

Special thanks to Deathtothecrows for editing the grammar !

See you all around for 12!


	12. Chapter 12

Spy woke up the next day. It was Saturday. He turned to look at the time.

6:30am.

He was surprised as he realised he had managed to sleep the whole night without waking up once.

"Prrrr… Prrr…"

Perle woke up and brushed herself against her master.

"Mmmmh, bonjour ma chérie. Tu as bien dormi?"

[Mmmmh, good morning sweetheart. Have you slept well?]

"Meooow."

It seemed to him that she was smiling.

"Et bien, quelqu'un est de bonne humeur!"

[Well now, someone is in a good mood!]

She blinked and tilted her head.

_Pas autant que toi._

_[Not half as much as you are.]_

He stared at her and smiled.

"Tu as peut-être raison."

[You might be right.]

He got off his bed and got busy with his morning routine. After a few minutes, the Frenchman was showered and dressed. He was in his smoking room, enjoying his morning coffee while listening to the news on the radio. Spy was not paying attention to it, he was thinking.

He had not dreamt. He really had rested his head on his colleague's shoulder and didn't get rejected . He had loved everything about that moment. The physical contact, the warmth, the sweetness. But he wondered. Did his friend just endure in silence because he was too shy or awkward to reject him? Or did he enjoy it as much as he did? He remembered that the Australian had put his head on his and he had felt his fingers brush his shoulder slowly. Surely he did not imagine it?! Surely he wouldn't do that if he hated Spy, would he?

The Frenchman finished having his breakfast and took a magazine. Again, his eyes were on the page but his mind was away. Today his friend would take him to buy Christmas things. What had he said again? A tree, decorations, lights and a jumper? He felt anxious. He hated to go to supermarkets for the exact reasons that Sniper mentioned. Too many people, too much noise.

_Bleh_.

He pulled his nose up and stuck his tongue out in disgust. But he thought of Sniper and sighed. Without realising it, his lips were pursing in a smile.

"Meow?"

He raised his head towards Perle who was sitting next to the mirror and realised he was smiling, his eyes half open.

"Mon Dieu…"

He removed the smile from his face and looked scared. He knew what that face of his meant. He knew what those butterflies he had felt in his stomach meant and the realisation slapped him across the face. The Frenchman opened big round eyes in horror and looked at his hands that he laid flat in front of him. They were shaking. The whole of him was.

Non, non, non, NON!

He did not want to risk it. It was his first and only friend here and did not want to risk anything. His contract with Mann Co. would last at least a couple of years. So the thought of having to pretend everything was fine when it clearly was not for such a long time was unbearable.

He could see it all. Him falling deeper and deeper, telling his friend about it and ruining everything. And then what?

_Retour à la case départ._

Back to square one. Back to the lonely evenings, back to the rage boiling inside, back to the solitude and emptiness…

Unless! Unless he did not show anything. He could pretend to just be a friend and want nothing more. Oui. That's what he should do. As much as he had craved and adored that moment of tenderness, his mind could not bear the possibility of losing his friend.

He made his mind then. He would keep that moment of softness in his memory and come back to that thought each time his heart would ache. Oui, that's what he would do.

_Knock, knock, knock._

He got startled. Spy looked at himself in the mirror. He carded his hair, adjusted his turtleneck top and put his jacket on. He quickly slipped his mask on and his gloves as he went to the door and opened.

"Mornin' mate, uh- I'll come back later."

Spy had not had time to adjust his mask properly was holding a glove between his teeth.

"Nnh, sorry Sniper, non, please, do come in."

Sniper diverted his gaze from Spy's face and locked his eyes on his shoes. He entered the flat and Spy shut the door after him.

"Forgive me, mon ami, I did not expect you so early."

Spy adjusted his mask and turned to face his colleague. They both sat on the sofa. The Australian raised his eyes.

"Uhm… Mate… You, uh, I, erm…"

"What?"

Sniper came close to the Frenchman and put his index finger close to his forehead, between his eyes.

"You got a lock of hair out there."

The pointy end of a shiny grey curl had slipped out of the mask.

"Oh."

Spy crossed his eyes and adjusted it quickly. Sniper blushed looking at his friend's light blue, almost grey eyes looking up.

"My apologies and merci…"

"It-it's fine."

"Oh, wait, what happened to you? Was it Hootsy?"

"What?"

Spy put his finger on Sniper's left cheek and brushed his soft gloved thumb under a scar there. The Australian's heart skipped a beat and his breath stopped. He could not but ever so slightly turn his head to feel more of the soft touch and his eyelids slid down slowly. Spy noticed but out of fear to just see what he wanted to see, he quickly removed his hand and looked down, embarrassed.

"That scar."

"Oh, uh, that? It-it's the BLU Spook."

Spy frowned.

"We had a bit of a fight and he managed to cut me before backstabbing me."

"L'enfoiré."

[The son of a…]

Spy had mumbled it but Sniper, although he didn't understand the work, got the idea.

"And respawn did not fix it?"

"Apparently not. But it's fine, in a couple o'days it should be history, Doc said."

"Ah, well, that is good to know. Does it hurt?"

"Nah, only if I touch it."

"Oh, my apologies then."

Spy realised that he might have hurt his friend, brushing his gloved finger on it a moment ago.

"Nah, you did nothin' wrong and it didn't hurt…"

An awkward silence fell but Spy broke it.

"I presume you came here for a reason?"

"Yeah, well, if you want, we can go shoppin' now. It's early in the mornin' so there won't be too many people."

"Oh, oui, let's do that."

"Alright, I got the van ready and defrosted but it's still freezin' cold outside so you might want to take something else on top of your jacket."

"Oui, let me get my things…"

Both men stood up and Spy gathered his scarf and heavy, puffy coat. He wrapped his head in his scarf. Sniper watched him and he slightly bent down to try and see his colleague's eyes above the scarf.

"Can you even see?"

"Mmmh!"

"You sound like Pyro now!"

Spy lowered the scarf.

"I said 'oui!'"

"You look cosy in there, like a fox in its den. But yeah, need anything else?"

Spy tapped on his pockets and shook his head.

"Non, we can go."

Spy lead the way out of his flat.

"Oh by the way, do you mind if I leave me Hootsy with your Perle?"

The Frenchman looked up at his colleague.

"Non, not at all."

"Roight, give me a second."

Spy waited in the corridor and after a minute, Sniper came back with his owl on his shoulder.

"Perle, fais attention à lui."

[Perle, take good care of him.]

"Hootsy, you behave!"

\-- Sniper's van --

"Roight, get your seatbelt, Spook. Don't want something bad to happen to the team's 'handsome rogue.'"

"What?!"

"Haha, don't take it like that! I just hear you when you talk to that BLU Spook when you dominate 'im!"

Sniper started the engine and the van started to move.

"Someone's very confident in their looks!"

"Well, Bushman, I've had my little successes."

"I don't doubt that. You're French and classy. Sheilas must fall like flies around you."

"What a beautiful metaphor, you're such a poet."

"Well, I have my days!"

Spy smiled and rolled his eyes up. Sniper quickly looked at him and smiled. His eyes came back to the road ahead.

"Also, your van…"

"What about it?"

"It smells like… Apricots?"

"Yeah, I put this thingy up."

Sniper pointed at the apricot shaped air-freshener hanging off the inside mirror.

"Why an apricot of all fruits and smells?"

"'Cause that's what I aim for in people."

"What?!

"There's this part of the brain that's called medulla oblongata that us snipers call 'the apricot'. If we shoot it, you die before you even realise what hit you."

Spy's jaw dropped and silence fell. Sniper raised an eyebrow and turned to have a look at his silent friend.

"You alroight?"

"O-oui, I just wasn't expecting such medically precise knowledge from you, my apologies. I'm… speechless."

"Yeah well, we know a thing or two to be good in our trade, mate. You don't just wake up one morning, shoot someone in the head and call yourself a Sniper, y'know? It takes some trainin'."

"What kind?"

Spy got his cigarette case out and lit one. Sniper saw him and extended his hand, asking for one.

"You smoke?"

"Occasionally."

Spy gave him the cigarette he had lit and got himself another one.

"Well, obviously our aim has to be perfect. We have to have steady hands too and control our bodies, even our breath."

"Great qualities for a Spy too."

Sniper's eyes shot to his friend who was smirking.

"Oi, you sayin' I could be a Spook?!"

"Hm-mh, well, you'd have to learn a thing or two about dressing up but…"

"Oh, would I? But I'd have a much better aim than you so I guess it'd work…"

"Hey!"

"Hahaha! Got'cha, Baguette Knife!"

Spy crossed his arms and pretended to be angry at his friend. Sniper saw him.

"Oh c'mon, quit your attitude, I was just joking… You're making good progress with your aim. I see you on the battlefield."

Spy relaxed.

"What, you watch me?"

"Well, I try to have a look at everyone, see where people are and sometimes you happen to cross my scope, yeah."

"Mh, I see."

"To be honest, there are things I understand in your job and things I would never be able to do."

"Like what?"

"Well, you're almost sure to be dead when you're found out, same for me, mate. But, you have to deceive people and lie to them constantly, I don't know how you do it!"

"Same as when you aim and shoot, you practise and you get better with experience. And given my old age, I am quite experienced."

"Yeah, you're old."

Spy opened round eyes.

"Bushman! I will not allow you to call me old! How old are you?"

"Younger than you, that's for sure!"

"How do you know?"

"Well… The, uh, I mean I don't want to seem like I'm… Uh…"

"Say it, I don't bite."

Sniper sighed. They had arrived at the supermarket's parking lot and the Australian had parked as close as possible to the store.

"Your hair this morning, the bit that was stickin' out of your mask. It was grey."

Spy lowered his eyes and took a more serious tone.

"Oui, I am indeed that old…"

Sniper stopped the engine and turned to his colleague.

"Why are so sad about it?"

"How would you feel if you looked back on your life and see that you have built nothing? I have spent my time like a butterfly, going from one flower to the next without thinking too much. And I know you will tell me to stop thinking about it but that woman tore a hole in the middle of my life. When I thought I would settle, she sent me flying again, but this time I flew from country to country and the years passed, one after the other, and my hair turned grey, and I have lines on my face."

Spy sighed.

"I have wasted my life."

"No!"

"Oui! All those years when you're young and you have the right age to start building everything, your career, your family. Those years I've spent stealing state secrets and killing people."

Spy was looking down at his hands as if he could see the blood of his victims soaking his gloves.

"Spook."

He raised his eyes to meet his friends'.

"That's not the right way to think. You've made a mistake and to heal, you needed to do that. So you did. Those years that you spent focusing on bein' a good spy were necessary for you to get better. Some people need to change jobs, some others need to pick up a sport, some decide to write or paint. You felt like you had to work. It's fair and above all, you have not wasted that time. You spent it doing what you thought was best for you, at that time. And that's exactly what you needed. Also, you did have some good moments during those years and it made you develop and grow up. I mean, bloody hell mate, you're friends with the Minister of Frogs' Secrets or French Defense, same difference, and whatever that means, it sounds both important and ridiculous!"

Both men chuckled slightly.

"And look at you now, you're going to the store to buy Christmas stuff with a random Aussie bloke. When she left you, would you have been able to jump in an old van and come along for Christmas shoppin'?"

Spy shook his head.

"Exactly, but now you are! So you're definitely over all that garbage, congrats mate. And look…"

The Frenchman raised his eyes and saw the Australian smile.

"Now all you gotta do is smile and enjoy. And please, please spook, stop thinkin' you wasted your life, it's obviously wrong. You're the best spook in France and certainly the best one in the world, _to me."_

Spy smiled and his eyes shone brighter.

"Merci mon ami, and sorry to bring the atmosphere down."

"Nah, I told you the other day. If you need to talk to someone, I'm here. But let's go before the whole of Teufort wakes up and joins us."

"Oui."

They exited the van and entered the store with a trolley.

"First, we need a tree. Ah, there they are."

They got closer and Spy felt overwhelmed by the forest of christmas trees there.

"We want one that's not too tall, but not too small either. You choose."

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"But I don't know which one I should go for!"

"Have a look around, do you need me to come with you?"

Spy nodded.

"S'il te plaît."

[Please.]

Sniper raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't it 's'il vous plaît' ?"

"Well, we use 's'il vous plaît' in the plural form or when you talk to someone you owe respect to, like your boss. But if it's a friend, we use 's'il te plaît'."

Sniper smiled as he understood that Spy was considering him like a friend.

"Roight, let's go."

After a couple of minutes, Spy decided on a tree. It was roughly the height of his friend.

"Alroight, tree? Done. Now, you gotta decorate it so let's go hunt for ornaments and tinsel."

Spy followed his friend. He thought that Sniper was awfully patient with him. Well, maybe it made sense. The man is a sniper, that means he was supposed to stay in a nest for hours on end…! Surely that builds up one's patience…

"Hey, why's your pal there wearin' a mask? It's Christmas, not Hallowe'en!"

Spy and Sniper stopped walking and the Frenchman turned on his heels.

"And why would you care, Monsieur?"

"You're scarin' the kids."

"Am I?"

"Yeah."

The man who had interrupted the mercenaries had a young daughter and a son. They were hiding behind their father's legs. Spy crouched down to be at eye level with them.

"Oh, I see you have a candy cane, _ma jolie,_ may I borrow it an instant?"

The young girl, out of fear, gave her candy cane to the Frenchman.

"Hey! Don't you steal her-"

Spy ignored the father talking. He looked at the kids.

"Look what I can do with it."

He spun it around his fingers slowly first and then faster. Sniper opened wide eyes as his friend was showing tricks to the kids whose jaws dropped.

"Wow, that's so cool!"

"You think so? Give me yours, young man, and look."

The young boy obeyed, but not out of fear. He was curious to see what that man with the mask and the funny accent could do.

"Many thanks. Now look."

Still crouching down, the Frenchman took one candy cane in each hand and made them spin. Sniper's jaw dropped. His fingers were so agile and fast, even with the gloves! He threw the candy canes up and standing up, he caught them again and continued to make them flip and dance between his thin fingers.

"See, I'm just a circus clown. I just don't want my colleagues to recognise me, so I wear this ridiculous mask."

He stopped the candy canes and crouched back down. The kids came in front of him.

"Are you like a magician?"

"Madison, Nick."

The father of the two children was now more annoyed at the Frenchman's ability to entertain his children than his mask.

"Yes, I do know some tricks. But maybe another day. Now, here are your candy canes and remember today's lesson. Don't judge a man by its mask, everyone wears one, even if you can't see it. Have a merry Christmas."

"You too!"

Spy sprang back to his feet and walked away, not even looking at the man who interrupted him in the first place.

"Wait, Spook!"

The Australian caught up with him.

"How did you do that?!"

"I usually do it with knives and short blades but I thought it might be inappropriate for young children."

"It was bloody amazin'."

Spy turned to his friend.

"Really? You think so?"

"O'course! You'll have to teach me that too!"

"Well, add that to the list of things you need to learn to become 'a spook', as you say!"

Sniper smiled.

"Yeah, I guess… Oh there we are, ornaments and tinsel. Now have a look and see if you can find anything that you like."

"Fine. Give me a moment."

"I'll go look for some things that I need too."

"Fine."

Sniper and Spy went their separate ways. The Australian was looking for a very small plastic Christmas tree, some lights and some ornaments for his van. As walked through the aisle, his eyes were scanning the wonderful choice of sizes, colours and styles. But his mind was somewhere else.

_What a day… And we're still in the store. Really this Spook is somethin' else. How good he is with the kids! And what did he tell them? Everyone wears a mask. He's right. Even if I don't wear a physical one, I still hide some things and that's fine eh, that's how the world works. Some things are just not good to show or say…_

He took some ornaments and continued to look around.

_And in the van, what he told me. Must be pretty tough to look at your life and think that you wasted it…_

He grabbed some tinsel from a shelf.

_But the best thing was his hand on my cheek._

He didn't realise it, but he smiled.

_Bugger, he did remove it though when he saw that I was, well, melting in his hand…_

He shrugged and sighed.

_After all, the man is a lady magnet. He could be a bloody Hollywood actor. He's elegant, very charmin' and all that. He must have thought I'm a weirdo, or even worse…_

He dismissed the thought and shook his head. Sniper looked at what he had in his arms and was satisfied with what he got, he wasn't missing anything. He went back to the trolley and saw that his friend had been waiting for him.

"Oh, sorry, you been waitin' for long?"

"Centuries."

Sniper put his stuff in the trolley and looked up to Spy. The Frenchman was smiling.

"Sorry, Baguette Knife!"

"I'm joking, Bushman. Now, what's next?"

"Wait, I need to see if you forgot anything… Ah, you even got a star for the top of the tree, that's nice."

"Oui, I tried to get ideas from the decorated trees around the aisles."

"Good idea… Now, the sweaters!"

"Do we really have to?"

"Oh yes!"

"But Headshot Man, they're ugly and very much out of fashion!"

"Exactly! That's precisely why you need one. Come along, Spook!"

The Frenchman rolled his eyes up and followed the enthusiastic Sniper. They were in the men's clothes aisle.

"Look at those, they're fantastic!"

"Bleh."

The Frenchman stuck his tongue out in disgust.

"Oi, bleh yourself! You're gonna get one and wear it! Now, you're from Baguette land, roight? So you must know a thing or two about fashion. Which one would suit me best? This one with the deer or this one with a big present on it?"

Spy rolled his eyes up.

"They're both atrocious, Vegemite-lander."

"Alroight, alroight, let me say it differently. Which one is the least atrocious?"

The Frenchman squinted and put a hand on his chin.

"The one with the present."

"Is the colour alroight? There's a white one, a black one, a red one… Mh… A green one, a pink one?!"

Spy smirked.

"Get the pink one."

"You bloody jokin'?! Uh, yeah you are, you cheeky bastard…!"

The Frenchman laughed.

"The white one will do I think. The present is red which contrasts beautifully with the snow white background."

"Ah, ok, there I go then, sorted! Now for you…"

Spy let his friend have a look there and went deeper in the aisle. His eyes were quickly eliminating the appalling clothes one by one. He came back to his friend.

"Look, Sniper, I thank you for your patience, but I really don't want to be wearing any of these things. Is it fine if we continue our shopping without a jumper for me?"

The Australian looked a bit surprised but he understood his friend.

"Oh, sure, no worries."

He wanted him to be happy and feel at ease. The last thing he wanted was to force Spy to do anything that he didn't want to do.

"Now we need to look for presents."

"For whom?"

"For whoever you want. I usually get something for Hootsy and for my parents. If I'm in Australia, I get something for my friends too. But it's up to you, whoever you want and whatever you want. Now I'm gonna take my stuff so that I finish with the gifts, pay and wait for you in the van, is that ok?"

"Oui, sure, I'll meet you there. Good luck with your hunt."

"And to ya!"

Spy thought he should get something for Sniper. He knew what he'd get him and went straight to take it. Meanwhile Sniper headed for the animal food and products aisle and chose a ribbon with a small bell and some cat treats for Hootsy. He took them and pondered.

I should get some'in' for Spy. But what would he like…? The man likes expensive and classy things…

He walked through the aisles looking left and right to get ideas.

_Food? Nah… Sweets? Nah… Chocolates? The guys has weird taste, whatever I'll take, it won't be refined enough for him... Perfume? I don't know what kind he likes…_

But he knew which kind he himself liked for Spy. Sniper didn't know what it was called but the one Spy was wearing suited him. And the Australian had got used to it so he associated that smell with the Frenchman now. He continued walking.

_Kids' toys? Nah… Clothes? Nah… Oh!_

He saw something and it struck him. That's exactly what he would get for him. He took it and went to the cashier.

\-- Sniper's van --

The Australian man was waiting for his friend to join him and was daydreaming.

_I hope he'll like my gift. He might find it weird though… Nah, I'll just tell him it's for him to get something on Christmas and be in the spirit of things. Worst case scenario, I'll say that. Best case scenario…?_

He shook his head.

_Stop imaginin' things that'll never happen. The bloke is a lady magnet. Not a… A… Not like me._

The van door opened and Spy jumped in.

"Thank you Sniper, hopefully I didn't make you wait for too long."

"Oh, y'know, I just waited there for centuries."

Spy raised his eyes.

"Hey, that's what I told you!"

"You're not the only one who can use the word 'century' now, are ya?"

Sniper started the van's engine and drove the van out of the parking lot.

"Well, I am not but still!"

"Take it as a good thing mate, it shows I'm learning, and _from the best."_

Spy and Sniper looked at each other and for a split second, both of them wished they were seeing what they wanted to see in each other's eyes. They wanted to see a shy flame and wanted to believe that it existed in the other's eyes and that it was only yearning to grow.

**_\-- Author's notes -- _**

Thanks for reading and thank you to all the people who commented between my realeasing chapter 11 and this one! I feel extremely happy that people like this story :D

Continue to send your opinion on the story, it helps me so much!! :D

See you for number 13 :)


	13. Chapter 13

\-- Spy's smoking room --

"There, we've nearly finished with the tree, Spook."

Both had come back from the store and were organising the decorations in Spy's suite. The tree was in place and it's ornaments really made a bright difference with the rest of the Frenchman's style. Sniper handed him the last few tinsel strands and got busy with the lights.

"What are you…?"

"It's the lights, I know you lot work in the shadows but lights are actually a good thing!"

Sniper put the lights in the tree and went around it a couple of times.

"There we go, now, a plug…? Ah, there!"

"I have finished with the ornaments."

"Great now, c'me here!"

Spy got closer to his friend.

"You plug that in."

"Moi?"

"Yeah, you, Baguette Knife!"

Spy took the plug from Sniper's hand and stuck it to the wall. The lights woke up and blinked in bright, warm colours. Sniper put his hands on the Frenchman's shoulder, from behind him.

"Ah! That's a beaut' of a Christmas tree! Congrats, Spook!"

Spy smiled. Hearing his friend being happy was warming his heart more than the lights on the tree. Also, feeling his warm hands on his shoulder made him relax. His hands were tickling and he wished he could put them on top of Sniper's. Non. Obviously, he couldn't.

"_MEEEEOW!"_

Perle ran from the armchair and came running to play with the lights.

"Oh, I had forgotten about her… Oi, Perle!"

The cat raised her head towards the Australian.

"C'mere, pretty cat."

Sniper released his grip from the Frenchman and crouched down. He put a hand in his pocket and got a red and green thin ribbon out.

"Gimme yer neck, the tree is not the only one to be decorated here…"

The cat stood on her back paws and rested her font ones on Sniper's thigh. She raised her head for the Australian to tie the ribbon. It had a small golden bell, Spy watched in silence.

"There you go."

"You are so gifted, it is remarkable."

"Whot?!"

Sniper sprang back up to stand next to his friend.

"She listens to you as if you were speaking in meows!"

"Well, that's my superpower if you want. I'm really good with animals."

"I had noticed, but I had not realised it was to that extent!"

Both men took a seat on the sofa, in front of the dancing flames.

"Well, it has to be a very useful quirk of yours. Does it work with all animals?"

"As far as I know, yeah. But it comes with a price. Nothin's free."

Sniper's face darkened. He was sitting and bent forward, resting his elbows on his thighs.

"What do you mean?"

"Well you've noticed how sometimes I can't speak."

"It happens to everyone. Sometimes you just need a bit of time to find your words."

"Nah, that's not what I mean. Sometimes I… Ugh, nah, I don't want to bring the mood down. Let's talk about some'in' else."

"Sniper."

The Australian raised his eyes to meet with his friend's fair blue ones.

"Please, tell me. You have been kind enough to lend me your ear when I needed it. It is now my turn to repay the favour."

Sniper smiled, albeit sadly.

"Okay. So, sometimes I… Nah, actually, it's all the time. You're gonna laugh but I'm bad when it comes to feelin's."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, well, uh… How can I explain…?"

Sniper put a hand behind his neck and scratched the back of his head.

"When some'in' happens, I feel it. But Spook, when I say I feel it, I _really, deeply_ feel it and it's always been a nightmare. Especially when I was younger."

Spy shyly put his hand on Sniper's shoulder.

"You are a sensitive man, it can't be a bad thing."

"Yeah it bloody is! And the worse part is that I get it when things happen to me but also to people around me. Say someone does somethin' embarrassin' and I see them, I'm the one who turns red as a brick! It's horrible."

Spy smiled.

"It's not, I find it beautiful. I have the opposite problem. I have a heart made of cold stone."

"Well I envy you for that! But yeah, what that means is that I had to train myself to… _desensitise_ myself. That's why now I'm mute most the time when I'm with the others. And I mind my own business. I don't want anyone near me because I know I'll feel all that again."

"You're doing pretty well as far as I can tell."

"Yeah, well, it's hard."

"So, if I understand correctly, you are very sensitive, to the point where even if, say, I was to feel something, you'd sense it too?"

Sniper nodded.

_Merde, je dois être très prudent alors._

[_Shit, I need to be very careful then.]_

"May I ask, and please tell me if that's none of my business, because you would be right in telling me so but, you mentioned last time that you still had some successes with… Well…"

"Sheilas?"

"Oui."

Sniper sighed and put his fingers on the bridge of his nose.

"It's fine if you don't want to talk about it, Sniper. I will never force you."

The thoughts in the Australian's head were racing.

_Well you bloody idiot, you're clever. It's not that I don't want to talk to you about it. I just don't know how to. You're classy and elegant and, well, older than me. Also you get ladies by the dozen... Chances are, you won't understand._

"I-I… Uh, I mean I…"

Spy desperately wanted to help his friend and give him back the patience that he had received from him.

"Breathe, Sniper. And take your time, I don't have anything planned today so if it takes the day and the night, so be it."

Sniper sighed.

"It was hard with them. Very. I felt like I liked some a lot but I couldn't really, you know, uh…"

"Let yourself go?"

Sniper turned his head and looked at his friend in the eye.

"Y-yeah, I could never, I mean I liked them eh, but I could never just feel what I wanted. I always had to fight myself and hide part of my feelin's. And it was a hit or miss! Sometimes I'd hide too much and they'd leave me because they thought I didn't like them. Sometimes I'd hide less and they'd see me like a… Like a…"

"Too sensitive and not manly enough?"

Sniper closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

"It was hard, too hard for me. So I abandoned the idea. I'm not interested in sheilas anymore, I don't want to go through that again. The constant constraint on myself, having to fight my own self to pretend I'm a decent bloke."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, mon ami."

"What's that mean?"

"What?"

"You keep sayin' it, but I don't understand it."

"What?"

"Mon ami?"

"Oh, it means my friend, because after what I've told you, Headshot Man, you are now dangerous to me and I'd rather have you as a friend than an enemy."

"Whot?!"

"You know my weaknesses. Were you to fight against me, you would have a considerable advantage over me."

"Oi, wait, I'm never gonna fight you and also, now, you have _my weaknesses_ with you too. So we're even."

"Indeed."

Silence fell.

"You're such a Spook."

There was a lot of disappointment in Sniper's voice.

"My apologies."

"I'm sittin' here tellin' you about, well, delicate stuff and all you think about is fightin' and strategies!"

Spy heard annoyance and slight anger in his friend's voice.

"I deeply apologise, Sniper, it was not my intention to say it that way, I just-"

"Well you just did!"

Sniper stood up and left the the sofa. He left Spy's suite and as he slammed the door shut, Spy's heart sank to his feet.

\-- _Sniper's room --_

_Bloody idiot me again… How could I ever think that there was some'in' human behind that mask?!_

Sniper dropped himself on his desk chair, sitting the wrong way around and resting his arms on the chair's back. He rested his chin on his arms and looked through the window.

_Stupid French wanker._

His eyes were locked on the white flakes dancing under the slow breath of the wind, making them swirl lightly.

_If he's stupid then I'm a bloody fool. I should know better. The man's been trained to be a cold-blooded killing machine, a snake. Can't feel anythin' apart from satisfaction when he puts his knife in someone's back…_

The flakes were growing bigger and the wind was blowing more strongly. Sniper's eyes were still stuck on the window. He grunted.

_Why is it always like that?_

He stopped his thought and frowned.

_Nah, actually it's never been like that. Apart from mum and dad, no one knows about me bein' as sensitive as a woman… Still, I'm an idiot for tellin' him all that. I felt I could because he had told me some of his story._

Sniper sighed.

_I can be so stupid sometimes…_

He thought about that moment when Spy switched the lights on, on the tree. Sniper had been staring at his eyes and saw the reflection of the multicolored tiny shiny spots of lights on his light blue, almost grey eyes. His pupils had dilated slightly, like a cat in the dark.

_Bloody hell, why am I smiling on me own now?!_

He frowned and growled again. Sniper put his chair closer to the window. But his mind came back to something else. When he had put his hands on the Frenchman's shoulder. He was behind him and saw the thin neck, smelled the perfume again and felt the slim shoulders under his fingers.

_Bloody hell!_

He had caught himself with his faint reflection on the window, his eyes were dreamy, half closed and his eyebrows were arched up and his lips were pursing in a smile again.

_I can't get him out of my head, I need to go out and do somethin'._

\-- _Spy's smoking room --_

_Je suis un idiot._

_[I am an idiot.]_

Spy put his gloved hand over his face and let it sink, pulling his skin downwards. He sighed and got up, starting to walk back and forth with his hands behind his back. He looked like a prisoner going round and round his invisible cell. Each time he spun on his heels, Spy felt that he was wasting more time and it got him more angry. Each time he walked facing the lights of the Christmas tree, they would blink a couple of times. Each flash of light blinded him and it seemed like the tiny light spots were screaming in his head, telling him off and insulting him. Again, and again.

"PUTAIN DE MERDE!"

[FUCKING HELL!]

He wanted to punch, shred and tear to pieces, break to smithereens. What? Anything would do. He turned around one way and the other, gritting his teeth and breathing loudly, like a rabid dog. He felt angry and powerless. Spy turned, took his coat and exited his suite. He needed some fresh air.

\-- _Outside the base's main building --_

Spy could hardly walk. Each step he took made him sink in the snow up to his knees. The wind was blowing quite strongly and he snowfall was getting more intense. The Frenchman nonetheless didn't care. It was all the better. Feeling the wind slapping him across the face, his tears flowing, and the cold biting his very bones was exactly what he needed. He felt like he was fighting and letting all his rage out with each step forward. It was insanely cold but the frustration and anger boiling inside him kept him warm.

He continued to walk forward and and went further than Sniper's van. He stopped and looked at the horizon. He could barely even see it. Everything was grey and cold. Spy was wearing a thick hood on his head and had wrapped a scarf around his face. Only his tearful eyes were directly in contact with the air.

The blizzard was very loud. Spy put a hand on his scarf and pulled it down, to free his mouth. He then looked down and realised that he had forgotten his gloves inside.

"Je ne suis qu'un idiot doublé d'un con! Un vieux con qui pense qu'il est mieux que tout le monde mais qui en vérité ne vaut pas mieux que le premier abruti venu!"

[I am an idiot and an imbecile! An old imbecile who thinks he's better than everyone else where in fact he is not worth more than the first moron who comes to pass!]

Even his echo did not answer. His shout had been stolen by the wind and buried in the snow. All the better, he needed to shout more.

"Putain de merde! Pourquoi je suis con comme ça des fois? Et pourquoi je fais le con quand en fait, je ne m'en fous pas! Avant je m'en foutais et il n'y avait aucun souci et maintenant j'y tiens, mais je fous tout en l'air!"

[Fucking hell! Why am I stupid like that sometimes? And why do I do that when I actually care?! Before, I used to not care and I was fine! Now I do care but I mess everything up!]

"SHUT UP!"

Spy gasped. He heard the echo of a powerful roar and he recognised that voice. He turned his back and looked around.

"Up there, you bloody wankah!"

Spy raised his head and on top of the van's roof, a tall man was standing.

"Even when I go in a blizzard, you find the way to follow me!"

Sniper was shouting from his van's rooftop.

"This is a public space, jar-man! I am not encroaching upon your property! Also, I hadn't seen you!"

Spy shouted as well, to overcome the blizzard's noise and to let his frustration out.

"Nah but you're shoutin' like you're the only one around!"

"Well that's how it felt when you left!"

"Whot?! You bloody piker, you were the one not carin' when I opened up to ya!"

"And I did apologise for that, you deaf _imbécile_!"

Sniper growled. He went to the ladder at the back of the van and slid down, landing in the snow with a thud. The marksman walked towards Spy and the Frenchman reciprocated, like in a mirror.

"Actually you're roight. I'm the imbecile, I shouldn't have told you anythin' about me!"

"I must be dreaming! I never forced you to do anything, _crétin!"_

"Nah you didn't have to, you manipulated me into doin' it for you, ya snake!"

"Quoi?! If you are an imbécile because you confided in me, then what am I?! I started doing that!"

"Yeah! You're a bloody moron, is what you are and I'm double that because I listened to ya and I believed your lies!"

Spy frowned and gritted his teeth. He raised his naked index finger in a threatening way and pointed it at Sniper's face.

"Ah non! I might be awkward, I might not be the best friend to talk to, I might even make ridiculous mistakes in that field but don't you EVER call me a liar!"

Sniper put his gloved hands on his hips and laughed with a gowl, mocking the shorter man. He delicately took the Frenchman's index between his gloved fingers and put it away.

"EXCUSE ME MISTER PAID-TO-LIE?!"

"I MIGHT BE, BUT I DIDN'T LIE TO YOU!"

"HOW THE HELL AM I S'PPOSED TO KNOW?"

"PARCE QUE JE-!"

[BECAUSE I-]

Spy stopped himself and silence fell. There was only the growling noise of the freezing storm. Spy was looking up to his friend, right in the eye. And Sniper, jaw clenched hard, was staring back. Their eyes were wet with tears and shooting left and right. It had all boiled down to a staring contest and to who could read the other's thoughts. Sniper wanted to know what Spy wanted to say and Spy wanted to know how Sniper would have reacted. The Australian was still holding Spy's index in his fingers, pinching it between his index and thumb.

The Frenchman had not been able to finish his sentence. Non. And he didn't even know what he would have said, what words he would have chosen. The thoughts raced in his head like fireworks shooting in every direction, leaving tails of sparks that split the foggy night sky of his mind. He lowered his eyes and relaxed his eyebrows, looking sadly at the ground when he felt something warm wrapping around his index finger. He raised his head and watched as Sniper had put both his hands around it. The Australian made the Frenchman open his hand and sandwiched it between his, rubbing them to warm it up.

"Your hands are getting blue with the cold, idiot."

"I forgot my gloves."

"I see that. Not exactly thoughtful, are ya?"

"I was angry, I needed some fresh air. I did not think a storm was raging outside."

"No, you didn't think, that's true."

Spy felt the cold all of a sudden. There was no frustration and no rage keeping him warm anymore. His teeth started chattering in the cold and he realised he had lost all feeling in his left hand. He raised it and wanted to slide it between Sniper's. The taller man took it and put it with the other one, between his.

"I apologise, Sniper, I really do. It was stupid of me to react that way. Especially after you've been so very helpful to me."

The Australian, whose eyes were locked on the Frenchman's hands, raised his eyes up slightly to look Spy in the eye.

"It's ok. But yeah, that's not how friends work, Spook."

His eyes went down to the Frenchman's thin lips. They were turning blue-ish with the cold.

"Uh, mate, I, uh, I mean… Uhm…"

Spy's heart warmed up. That hesitating voice. He liked it very much. He didn't care that the message that it wanted to convey was unclear. The Frenchman liked that voice. He could not help but smile.

"Say it in French."

Sniper frowned and closed his eyes to try and remember the word.

"Ta bouche…"

[Your mouth…]

Spy opened wide eyes and his pupils dilated gigantically. He realised the Australian was staring at his lips.

"Elle est bleue."

[It is blue.]

Spy raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Your lips, they're blue, you must be bloody freezin'! Can you feel anything at all?"

Spy's pupils shrank back in an instant and somewhere deep inside, oui, he was slightly disappointed.

"I can't feel my fingers and feet. And I'm starting to lose my lips to."

"How are you still alive at this point?"

"Well, _someone_ told me I was a snake. Those creatures have cold blood."

Sniper looked embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I don't think that of you."

"I'm relieved you don't. But let's go back inside if you don't mind, I'm really starting to feel unwell."

"O'course. Can you still walk?"

"Oui, I think so."

**_\-- Author's notes --_**Thanks for reading and as always please let me know what you think!

I'd like to thank all the people who commented on this story, it really boosts me up a lot. To know that people enjoy my vision of Sniper/Spy really means a lot to me.

Again, special thanks to Deathtothecrows for the help with the _Englishness__!_

See you for number 14 :)


	14. Chapter 14

Spy was frozen to the bone. He couldn't even hold the key straight to unlock his door so Sniper did it for him. Both mercenaries thanked God nobody saw them. They had entered the base with Sniper supporting Spy and helping him walk.

\-- Spy's smoking room --

"There you go, in front of the fire."

Sniper had made Spy sit on his armchair.

"Now let me help ya. You need to remove your trousers, mate, they're soaked. Where can I get you another pair?"

Spy, teeth chattering, pointed at the bedroom door.

"Uhm, roight, but, uh, d'you want to… I mean maybe you'd rather get them yerself?"

Spy shook his head slowly. Sniper pushed the armchair closer to the fire.

"Alroight, I'll be as quick as possible."

Sniper went to the door, opened it and slipped in his friend's room. He wished he could not see anything but the pair of trousers. But of course, his vision was far from being tunnelled…

Spy's bedroom had light blue paint on the walls. His bed was a large, double in size, with a dark wooden frame. The bedsheets were navy blue and the Frenchman had an incredible quantity of pillows of various sizes and shapes. It did not surprise Sniper, it only made him smile. Everything was tidy and the Australian could not help but notice the absence of anythingreallypersonal.No framed pictures, no souvenirs of any kind, no knick-knacks. It almost looked like a hotel room.

He grabbed the pair of trousers that was neatly folded on the bed. He noticed a wool plaid on the back of a chair. He took it too and exited the bedroom, coming back to his friend's side.

"Here, I'll prepare something for you in the kitchen. You wear this and take your time."

Sniper unfolded the plaid and wrapped his friend in it. Spy's lips were still blue and he was moving with great difficulty as his whole body was shaking.

"W-wait… Stay, please…"

"Mate, you really are dyin' or some'in'. Should I get the doc'?"

Spy shook his head and extended his hand. Like a reflex, Sniper took it in his and he realised how cold they were.

"Blimey… Wait, I have an idea."

The taller man went behind the sofa and pushed it closer to the fireplace.

"Now, we go on the sofa."

Sniper helped the frozen man to get up and move on the sofa.

"And now, you lay down, I'll get the blanket on you… There… Good. Now give me just a minute, I'll be right back."

The Australian left the room and the Frenchman alone with his thoughts. He was trying to hold on to life as the shaking in his body was too strong for him to contain. He sat up slowly and changed his trousers. Spy then laid down again. He felt the heat from the flames and closed his eyes to appreciate the soft and irregular warmth. When he opened them again, Sniper was sitting next to his feet.

"Can you sit up?"

Spy obliged, slowly. Sniper took the blanket and wrapped it around the both of them.

"Now, I'll hold the cup for you 'cause you'll get a shock otherwise. Just get your lips on it and drink."

The Australian lifted the cup of herbal tea he had prepared in the kitchen to the Frenchman's lips. The poor man took a shy sip first but then gulped the liquid faster.

"Crickey, you were thirsty?!"

Spy stopped drinking and nodded.

"Merci…"

The tea was not very hot as Sniper knew that the last thing someone in hypothermia needs is something hot. He put the empty cup away.

Both men were sitting next to each other and Sniper took Spy's hands in his, blowing on them and rubbing them to get them to warm up.

"You idiot, forgettin' your gloves…"

"I… know…"

Sniper was sitting at Spy's left. He looked down at him. The Frenchman was staring at the flames almost blankly. It both broke the marksman's heart and it motivated him to do whatever it takes to help his friend.

"Are you feelin' a bit better?"

Spy nodded.

"Oui, merci, I can feel my lips much better now."

"Oh thank God. That's good to hear."

"Thank you, Headshot Man."

Spy wanted to lean his head against his friend again. The warmth from the flames and from the plaid were slowly diffusing through his body, waking up his limbs bit by bit. But what made him feel warm inside was the heat radiated by his friend who was sitting right next to him. Their arms were touching, even a small part of their thighs. Spy closed his eyes as he wished very hard that this moment could last forever.

"It's nothin'. You'd do the same for me."

"Oui, without any doubt."

Sniper smiled and looked down at his friend.

"You're absolutely ridiculous, Spook."

He said that as he exhaled, in his breath, with his low voice. Ah, that voice. It was between a whisper and an actual speaking voice. Spy liked it too much for his own good and smiled. Had he been a cat, he would purr each time Sniper would talk to him in that low, growl-like voice.

"Oui, I am in fact, an utter fool."

"An idiot."

"Un imbécile."

"A moron."

"Un crétin."

Sniper curled his hand around his friend's back and put it on his right arm, moving it up and down, to warm him with the friction. Spy's heart burst in his chest and he melted in happiness. He had been missing those things. Physical contact, the comforting warmth of the body of the person you, well,like.

"But you know what?"

Sniper stopped moving hand fast and only held his friend close to him.

"I'm also an idiot."

"Oui, we are both a credit to the institution of badly communicating human beings."

Sniper smiled.

"Yeah, I s'ppose we are. But I'm sorry, Spook. I shouldn't have left so suddenly. I should have tried to understand you first. But then again, you're not anyone, you're The Spy and I'm sorry but it'll take time for me to trust you."

"I understand."

"Also, I reacted like that because I told you somethin' that very few people know about me and that's not…"

"It makes you vulnerable."

"Y-yeah, kinda."

"I understand, Bushman. I owe you an apology for being myself, a selfish and arrogant spy."

"Yes and no. Yes you owe me an apology but not for bein' yerself. It's my job as a friend to accept you."

"But it doesn't hurt if I make an effort."

"It doesn't but don't change."

"Oh, well, that's precisely my job."

"Maybe, but it's not your personality."

Spy looked up to Sniper.

"Thank you Bushman."

"De rien, mon ami."

[You're welcome, my friend.]

The Frenchman smiled.

"Oh, I see you got some pink back in your cheeks, mate."

Spy blushed even more.

"Hahaha! I think you're warming up nicely."

"Well indeed I am, and that's all your fault, Headshot Man!"

"Oh is it now? Maybe I should just leave you there to defrost like some bad turkey before Christmas?!"

Sniper removed his arm from around his friend.

"Non, please!"

Spy leant on him more.

"Please, stay, I, well, I quite enjoy your company."

Sniper smiled and blushed slightly.

"_Oh, I see you got some pink back in your cheeks, mate."_

"Whot?! Stop imitating me, you Spook!"

Both men laughed at each other until a knock on the door cut their moment or happiness short.

"Can you please take it?"

"Yeah, o'course but uhm, you sure you want, uh? You sure you want people to uh?"

"Oui, go ahead."

Sniper looked hesitant for a split second. The Frenchman, who previously had said that he considered dangerous his confiding in Sniper, was now agreeing to show the rest of the mercenaries that indeed, the marksman was a friend to him. Spy looked at him and smiled. He nodded and closed his eyes at the same time, as if to insist on his decision.

"Roight then."

Sniper walked to the door and opened. He looked at his eye level and seeing no one, he lowered his head. Engineer was standing there, looking up at the Australian.

"Oh, hey Sniper, I didn't expect to find you here, pardner. I guess Spy's there with you?"

"Y-yeah."

"Well, I just received a message from the Admin. Due to the snow, we're in a cease fire for as long as the blizzard goes."

"Really?"

"Yeah, have you seen the snowfall? It's he gettin' pretty intense now."

"Oui, we know."

Spy had walked from the sofa to the door, still wrapped up in his plaid and hunching his back slightly.

"Oh, mate, wait… There… You should have stayed on the couch, you're still weak!"

Sniper helped his friend stand up.

"Are you alright Spah?"

"Bah, I caught a bit of the cold."

"Wanna see Sawbones?"

"Non merci."

The Frenchman said, raising his hand.

"Sniper does an excellent job already."

"Alrighty then, I'll leave ya to it."

" 'preciated mate."

Engie left and Sniper shut the door.

"Now let's take you back to your couch, Mister. You need to rest."

"Fine."

Both men sat on the sofa in front of the fire. Spy was tightly wrapped up and at that point, he was pretty much warmed up. He nonetheless wished Sniper could get in the plaid with him, like he previously was.

_Merde, Engie…!_

Spy cursed the short man in his mind.

"Oh, d'you mind if I… Uh…"

"Oui?"

"Well, it was quite cosy under yer blanket so uhm…"

Spy smiled and raised his left arm while holding the blanket up, like a bird opening its wing. Sniper opened wide eyes.

"Y-you sure?"

Spy was resisting the urge to wrap his arm and the blanket around Sniper and just nodded. The Australian seemed to hesitate but he soon yielded and got closer to his friend.

"Thanks mate."

"Avec plaisir."

[My pleasure.]

Sniper adjusted the plaid around him and his friend.

"Feel any better?"

"Considerably."

The Australian first thought it was irony and looked down at Spy, slightly annoyed, when he felt the Frenchman lean on him. He smiled and felt oh so warm… Spy had certainly warmed up as his body heat was diffusing slowly to the marksman's heart, like a warm vapor which wreathed, curled and wrapped around his soul. Sniper closed his eyes.

"May I ask you something, Sniper?"

He opened his eyes quickly.

"Y-yeah."

"You told me you were very sensitive. But how come you became a paid mercenary?"

"My dad told me how to use a rifle and we soon understood that I was very good with it. So when I finished school, I picked up huntin' contracts. Mainly pest-control things. Back in Australia, we do have some scary species, y'know?

"Mh-hm."

Sniper felt Spy's voice resonate in him and it gently tickled him, on the inside.

"I even took a huntin' contract just for money. I did that once, and I'll never forget how wrong it felt to kill that crocodile. I spent the next fews days unable to sleep and I kept on vomiting whatever I tried to eat. I felt disgustin'. That beast didn't ask for anythin' and I took its life, for what? Money? Bloody disgustin'."

The Australian shook his head.

"So I completely switched and worked the other way around."

"What do you mean?"

"I worked in animal's reserves. I would go there unnoticed and scare poachers away. I wouldn't kill them but hurt them enough to give'em a good fright."

"Unnoticed?"

"Well, I… I, I'd break in animal reserves, yeah…"

"And nobody ever found you out?"

Sniper shook his head.

"Nah, but people noticed how poachers would come around less and less. I got a nickname out of it."

"Oh?"

"The Phantom."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it was short for 'Phantom of the beasts.' Some people that it was some kind of pay back, as if the spirit of the poached animals would come back and take care of the hunters."

Spy smiled.

"You definitely would make a decent spy, Bushman."

Sniper chuckled.

"Maybe. But I'm bad at lyin' or manipulatin' people."

"That's a skill you learn with time and experience."

"I guess so."

Sniper shyly leant his cheek on the Frenchman's head. He did not rest his head fully, no. Spy would surely push him away for that. He did just enough to feel the fabric of the Frenchman's mask brush his cheek, and closed his eyes to appreciate the feeling, letting the sweet faint cologne tickle his nostrils.

"Can I ask you something, Spook?"

"Oui, bien sûr."

[Yes, of course.]

"Bein' all classy n'French you must have… well… _impressed_ quite a lot of people."

"You mean ladies?"

"Y-yeah."

"Oui, that's true."

"Was it part of your job too?"

"Sometimes. But for some of them I did have a genuine interest."

"Ah."

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I, no I mean, uh, it's just, uhm…"

Spy chuckled.

"Ugh, sorry, I did it again…"

"Don't apologise."

"Well it's annoyin', not bein' able to speak my bloody mind."

"That's because you hold yourself back, Bushman. You're too honest to lie so you constantly look for a better, less sentimental way to phrase your thoughts."

Sniper blushed and rested his cheek a bit more on the Frenchman's head.

"Have you ever tried to speak what you think?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, have you ever really bluntly spoken your mind?"

"Not really."

"You should."

"Nah."

"Why?"

"Because then I'm not a good person."

He paused for a bit.

"Spook, it's very hard to find the right level of honesty. And, y'know, there are things better left untold, at least partially."

"Fair enough, _tu prêches un convaincu."_

"Whot?"

"It's an expression in French, it means 'you're preaching someone who is already convinced.'"

"Oh, in English it's 'you're preaching to the choir.'"

Silence fell and was only disturbed by the crackling of the flames in the fireplace. But Sniper soon broke it.

"Spook?"

"Oui?"

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"But of course."

"Why don't you want to sing? When we listen to some music, I play the sax but you never want to show me what you can do with that voice o'yours."

"You already know why."

Sniper raised an eyebrow.

"Wait, what? I don't know, no, why?"

"The exact same reason that makes you stutter sometimes."

He paused and looked at the flames sadly.

"I get too emotional."

"Really?"

"Oui. And that's bad."

"I know…"

"Especially for a secret agent."

"Hm. Y'know what?"

Spy hesitated to move his head to look his friend in the eye but he decided against it. He liked feeling Sniper's hand on his arm and his head on his own too much to break that moment.

"What?"

"I'll speak my mind more only if you sing in front of me."

Spy opened big round eyes. He couldn't accept. As much as he wanted the Australian to confide in him and share the thoughts that he was used to bury at the bottom of his soul, he did not want to show himself like that yet.

"Sniper, I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Neither can I. If I really told you whot I'm thinkin' you'd think I'm an idiot, at least."

"Well then, we're two."

Sniper wished in his heart that Spy indeed was thinking and feeling the same. But he had been there before, countless times. He had learnt his lesson, the hard way, countless times again. He would feel it in his cheeks and his heart, the soft stinging, the heat, the world would vanish around the one person. Onlytheycounted then, no one else. And he would lose any ability to thinkstraight, so to speak…

"Spook?"

"Oui?"

"Am I, uh… I mean maybe I… Am I, ugh, I don't know how to say it."

"Say it as you think it."

"Nah I can't."

I'd lose you if I said it as I'm thinkin', and I don't want that.

"Are uh, _comfy enough_ like that? Or am I, uh-?"

"It is very good."

"Y-you sure?"

"Oui."

Sniper half-whispered to himself:

"Ah, good then, I guess."

But the Frenchman heard it and wanted, just this once maybe, to slightly overstep the mark and see how the Australian would react. He knew he was treading on a land mine but the chance was too good not to seize.

"You _guess?"_

"I mean I'm glad I'm not uh, crushing you or anythin'... I just-I just like the fabric of yer mask, it's very soft."

Spy grinned. Being a master of lies and half-truths, he could detect them easily and oh Lord, _that_ was a very poor lie. He also felt the top of his head warm up. Sniper had no doubt turned as red as a brick.

"You like my mask? I can lend you one if you want?"

Obviously, the Frenchman was teasing his friend but Sniper was oblivious to it and missed the joke completely.

"Whot?! No! That's not what I meant, I just uh…"

Spy freed himself from his friend's embrace. He needed to look in his eyes to say what he had to say.

"I _know_ what you meant."

Sniper felt hot from his toes to his ears and he swore he could feel steam escaping from them. Spy's light blue eyes were piercing through his face and reading his thoughts written on the ethereal paper of his soul. The Australian started sweating.

"No need to be nervous. As I previously said, I also enjoy your company, Bushman."

And Spy leant back on his friend.

"People rarely see me like this."

"Whot d'you mean?"

"You said it, I am a snake, frighteningly cold-blooded, arrogant. That's not exactly what I am showing you now."

He said as he snuggled against Sniper's chest closer and heard the racing heart of the taller man. He put a hand against it and said, in his soft, velvet voice.

"Calme-toi, Sniper."

[Calm down, Sniper.]

The Australian could not take it anymore. Not only was Spy leaning his head against his chest but he was also…laying his thin fingers on his heart. Sniper was torn apart on the inside. He coud either stand up and go away or make a move that could possibly end his friendship with the Frenchman. He sweated more. His body screamed at him to go for the first option and risk it all but his mind was scared.

_You know what happens if you go for option 1, Mundy. It will be yet another shipwreck, yet another couple weeks of isolation, not being able to sleep or eat properly. Is it really what you want, again? Have you not learnt your lesson yet?_

Sniper could feel the pressure in his head, as if the walls of his skull were shrinking and pressing his brain, squeezing it tighter. His vision shrank and became cloudier and cloudier. He closed his eyes, frowned hard and gritted his teeth.

"Merci, Sniper."

Sniper's eyes snapped open. He looked down and saw his own arms around the Frenchman, holding him close. He lowered his head and rested his cheek on the top of Spy's head again. He smiled, albeit sadly as he realised that he had been craving for physical contact from another human being for a long time. He turned his head every so slightly, trying to make sure Spy would not feel his lips on the top of his head.

Too bad, the Frenchman did.

**_\-- Author's notes --_**

Thanks for reading as always :) !

Special thanks to Deathtothecrows for having proofred it, as always :)

Let me know what you think of this one andhopefully, it will have been worth the wait!

See you all for 15 :)


	15. Chapter 15

Sniper opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times. He was back in his room and Hootsy was sleeping on the desk, in the scarf that he had arranged as a nest.

_Bloody hell, how did I end up here? Ah, yeah, I remember._

He would have preferred to stay with the Frenchman the whole evening but it would have been weird to spend the night with him, even just on the sofa. So he had gone back to his room and had fallen asleep quite fast, a million butterflies in his stomach.

_Bloody hell. I did it, I-I left my lips on his head and closed my eyes. And he…_

He opened wide eyes.

_He didn't push me back. He…_

Sniper gulped and felt tense.

_He hugged me tighter…? Or did I imagine it? Did I dream it? Nah, I can't be that out of my head…_

He took a moment to breathe before resuming his train of thought.

_I'm bloody ridiculous. I'm fallin' for a bloke I haven't even seen the face of._

Sniper put his hand over his own face and slid it down.

_Well, technically, I've seen the back of his head. But still, that's not his face. And I don't even know his name! I bet he has one of those weird posh French ones, like Jean-Pierre or some'in'..._

The Australian daydreamed for a while, his mind busy with the mysteries surrounding his masked friend. He did not know it but down the few stairs at the end of the corridor, the Frenchman was also up.

\-- _Spy's bedroom --_

The Frenchman woke up after Perle had bullied him, kneading her claws on his chest first and when he turned, on his shoulder and back.

"Mon Dieu, Perle, s'il te plaît!"

[My God, Perle, please!]

But the fluffy feline insisted to get her food and Spy yielded.

"Je n'aurais jamais du te gâter autant."

[I never should have spoiled you that much.]

He half-heartedly got out of his bed and put a gown on. Perle followed him happily, knowing that she had managed to get what she wanted. Indeed, the Frenchman was heading for her food bowl. The lights on the Christmas tree flashed at him and surprised him at first. He blinked a couple of times.

_Ah, oui, le sapin de Noël._

_[Ah, yes, the Christmas tree.]_

He smiled at it, as if the tree would greet him back, and filled Perle's food bowl.

"Voilà, bon appétit!"

[There you go, enjoy your meal.]

The Frenchman carded his hair and rubbed his eyes. He went to prepare a cup of coffee and put some music on the radio. He sat on the sofa and took his magazine to pass the time while his coffee brewed. Spy got back to that article that made him put the magazine away the other day.

_Dating tips, your winter will be far from lonely!_

He smiled. He definitely did not need any of that nonsense to have a good friend. And what a friend!

_Sniper._

He smiled at the thought of the man who had almost kissed his head the day before. But had he done that out of compassion and maybe pity for his frozen self, or was it for other reasons? Reasons that Spy could only wish were really the ones behind his friends late night embrace the day before.

But one has to be careful and the Frenchman had overstepped the mark. He had pushed the Australian to do and say more than he wanted. Today, he shall leave him alone. Yes, he shall not bother him. Besides, there was no real reason for him to go and bother his friend.

_Quel dommage._

_[What a shame.]_

A voice within him said. He got out of the sofa and poured the coffee in a cup. The Frenchman roamed through his cupboards, looking for anything to have with his coffee, but to no avail.

"Merde… Je crois que j'ai laissé quelques choses dans la cuisine."

[Shit… I think I have left some things in the kitchen.]

\-- _Kitchen --_

Sniper was alone there as it was still very early in the morning. He was sipping his coffee, Hootsy on his shoulder, standing in front of the window.

The blizzard was still raging outside and the snow was piling up to his waist. Quite impressive, he thought, as it was the first time he saw that much snow. He could hardly see his van and thought that he made the best decision when he came to the base. It must be sub-zero temperature there now. His coffee pot was not empty and must have turned into a solid block.

The Frenchman entered the kitchen and saw his friend. He nonetheless did not want to bother him. He silently went to his cupboard and opened it. Spy took his packs of French biscuits and left as silently as he first had entered.

Sniper took another sip of his coffee.

_Wait._

He turned his back. Nothing. He swore he could smell his friend perfume. The Australian frowned and his eyes scanned every square inch of space behind him.

_Mmh… Now I smell him even when he's not here, great._

Sniper sighed and turned back to look through the window, frowning still.

_Bloody ridiculous. This has to stop._

He finished drinking his coffee and went back to his room before anyone else woke up and joined him in the kitchen. He needed to be alone, with his thoughts.

\-- Sniper's room --

The Australian laid on his bed, his back to the wall and played with Hootsy who was walking on his stomach.

"Whot d'you reckon, Hootsy, hm?"

The owl raised his head and looked at his master.

"D'you think I'm just seeing what I want to see?"

Sniper got his index finger close to Hootsy's beak and the bird bit it softly.

"I might just be imaginin' it, it wouldn't be the first time."

Hootsy released his grip on the marksman's finger and brought a small toy ball to his master. Sniper took it and threw it on the bed for Hootsy to fetch.

"It's so hard to know though. What is he thinkin' behind that mask of his? He might just be playin' a game with me and I don't even know."

Hootsy brought the ball back and again, the Australian threw it.

"I wish I could just know what he feels really."

The owl looked at Sniper with big round eyes and tilted his head.

_But you know what he feels._

"Nah I don't."

_You usually do with people._

"Yeah, well, not this time."

_Why?_

"He's… He's complicated, he can lie very well. As he said, it's a question of experience, and yeah, he has plenty of it. That's why I can't know what he feels."

_Nah, that's not why you can't read him._

"Why then?!"

Hootsy blinked.

_You know why._

\--Spy's smoking room --

The Frenchman was catching up with his reading but his mind was busy with other thoughts than the ones the magazine was aiming at.

He put the paper down on his lap and Perle jumped up next to him on the sofa.

"Qu'est-ce que tu en penses?"

[What do you think of it?]

The cat sat and licked her paws.

"Tu penses que je lui plais vraiment?"

[Do you think he really likes me?]

Perle stopped mid-lick and raised her head.

_Depuis quand tu te demandes si tu plais vraiment à quelqu'un?_

_[Since when do you wonder if you caught someone's eye? You always do.]_

"Quoi?!"

[What?!]

_Lucien, tu as toujours séduit qui tu veux. Pourquoi tu doutes aujourd'hui?_

_[Lucien, you have always seduced who you wanted. Why do you doubt now?]_

"Parce qu'il est fondamentalement gentil et honnête. Il ne calcule pas, il n'a aucune arrière-pensée. Il réagit sans trop y réfléchir et c'est très rare."

[Because he is fundamentally kind hearted and honest. He doesn't overthink and try to manipulate you, he has no thoughts at the back of his mind. He reacts without thinking too much, and that's very rare.]

Perle resumed her cleaning.

_C'est tout?_

_[Is that all?]_

"Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire?"

[What do you mean?]

_Tu veux me faire croire à moi que tu ne sais pas si tu lui plais parce qu'il est gentil?!_

_[You want to make me believe, me of all people, that you don't know if he really likes you because he is kind-hearted?!]_

"Oui."

[Yes.]

_Lucien, pas à moi._

_[Lucien, you can't make me believe that, not to me.]_

The Frenchman looked at the flames dancing in front of him and bit his lip, frowning. Perle was right. He pondered for a while, staring at the flames. He needed to find it in himself, the courage to face it, to admit it. He put his fingers on his temples and rested his elbows on his thighs. The magazine slid and fell down, flapping the pages open. He closed his eyes and thought hard.

_Merde, Perle a raison, comme toujours… Je ne sais pas si je lui plais parce que… argh!_

_[Shit, Perle is right, as always… I don't know if he likes me because… argh!]_

He felt his feline friend brush herself against him. He removed his hands from his temples and looked at her.

"Je ne sais pas si je lui plais parce que je n'ai pas envie de voir seulement ce que je veux voir."

[I don't know if he really likes me because I don't want to only see what I want to see.]

Perle purred and the Frenchman laid back on the sofa. She curled in his lap and looked up at him with her big blue eyes that, Spy now realised, were the same shade as Sniper's, only a bit darker that his own very light blue, almost grey ones. He sighed.

"Je crois qu'il me plaît, Perle."

[I think I like him, Perle.]

He rested his head on the sofa's back and looked at the ceiling.

"Je crois qu'il me plaît."

[I think I like him.]

He repeated as the sound of his own voice saying it was both relieving and horrifying. It was taking a huge weight off his heart but actually it was removing a kilogram to replace it with a ton. Spy put a hand on his chest.

_Merde._

His heart was racing and he felt hot.

"Perle?"

_Oui?_

"Je crois que je l'aime."

[I think I love him.]

The air was scarce and he could only breathe in short bursts. He knew the implications of what he had just said. That was it. He had hit the point of no return now. He had just admitted it, it was said loud and clear and all his belongings in the room were now witnesses, maybe even accomplices. He cursed everything around him. The coat-hanger, the armchair, the sofa, the mug, the fireplace. They were all accomplices. They had all contributed to trap him that way.

"Meow?"

"Huh?!"

He gasped. Perle's voice broke his rise of anxiety and made it all pop like a balloon with a needle. Her meow had gripped him by his collar and pulled him violently back down to earth, on his sofa.

_Donc tu l'aimes?_

_[So, you love him?]_

"Oui, je crois."

[Yes, I think so.]

_Bien._

_[Good.]_

He looked at her. She was smiling.

"Pourquoi tu souris comme ça? Ça te fait plaisir de me voir terrifié?!"

[Why do you smile at me like that? You like seeing me terrified?!]

_Non, ça me fait plaisir de retrouver le Lucien que j'ai connu au début._

_[No, I'm just glad to find the Lucien I had known a long time ago.]_

He raised an eyebrow.

_Tu te souviens la dernière fois que tu te sentais comme ça? Tout chaud à l'intérieur?_

_[Do you remember the last time you felt like that? Warm on the inside?]_

He slowly opened wide eyes. His mouth went dry and his lips parted.

"Merde…."

[Shit…]

He did remember. And that had not ended well.

"MEEEEOW!"

Perle screeched and pulled her claws out.

"Quoi?!?"

[What?!?]

She hissed at her master and climbed on him, all claws out. He could feel them sting through his cashmere top.

_LUCIEN! Arrête de penser à ça! Et ce n'est pas une mauvaise chose que tu ressentes ces choses-là! Regarde-toi, tu es heureux, tu es plein de vie, tu n'as pas de mal à te tirer du lit!_

_[LUCIEN! Stop thinking about it! And it's not a bad thing that you feel that way! Look at yourself, you're happy, you're full of life, you don't struggle to get out of bed!]_

Spy looked at his cat and lowered his head. She was right, as always, and again.

_Tu l'aimes et c'est beau._

_[You love him and that's beautiful.]_

The Frenchman smiled. He had needed to be yelled at to realise that indeed, what he was going through was far from being bad. He had been missing those emotions. The blush to his cheeks, the very careful play around with words, trying to push one's luck without being too blunt, the shy hands brushing the other's, the breaths cut short, the million butterflies flapping their colourful wings and warming up everything inside, that sweet and slow flame burning inside…

His smile grew wider and he half closed his eyes. Spy sighed and stroked Perle.

"Oui, je l'aime."

[Yes, I love him.]

But he soon frowned. He still didn't know if the Australian felt the same and knowing how shy he is, the Frenchman did not anticipate his friend to take the first step forward. He pondered. If Spy went and asked Sniper directly, he might well ruin that very precious relationship.

"Hm… Donc si je veux que ça avance, je prends un risque. Ou alors, je peux juste profiter de ces moments, sans trop poser de question."

[Hm… So if I want things to go forward, I am taking a huge risk. Or, I can merely take advantage of those moments, without questioning it too much.]

The Frenchman frowned. Did he want to push forward? Or could he content himself with the occasional hugs? One thing he knew for sure, he did not want to lose those precious moments. He liked them way too much and as Perle said, they were the reason the Frenchman woke up with a smile now. And it had been such a long time since it last happened. Then it is settled, he shall enjoy those moments, without pushing the Australian too much. Neither should he expect too much. In this situation, he knew that yes, he would love more from Sniper than the occasional moments of tenderness but he wouldn't put him in an uncomfortable situation. Besides, he must be extremely careful as he had told him of his very acute empathy; something Spy was most definitely lacking.

The Frenchman sighed. He crossed his legs and Perle left his lap. He put his elbow on the armrest. He rested his head on his knuckles, tilting it slightly. Spy wanted to see Sniper. He wanted to hear his voice, see him smile and hear him laugh.

He frowned. He needed an excuse, anything would do.

\-- _Sniper's room --_

Sniper was still lost in thought, playing with Hootsy when a noise forced him back to reality. He sat up on his bed and pricked his ears up.

_Whot the…?_

Hootsy heard it too and flew to the door knob. The Australian thought it was coming from the door too, the noise of wood being scratched. He got off his bed and opened the door.

_No one?! Oh…_

His eyes travelled down and on the floor Perle was sitting, her front paws up and a Christmas ornament in her mouth. Sniper looked right and left. No trace of Spy.

"Come in," He half whispered.

The cat shifted her weight from her back legs to all four and trotted in his room. Sniper shut the door and crouched down.

"G'day, pretty cat."

He stroked her head.

"It's nice of you to come and see me. But why the Christmas ornament in your mouth eh? And does Spy know you stole it?"

She dropped it on the floor and purred under the Australian's hand.

"Nah, of course. He might be one hell of a sneaky bastard but, you're sneakier, innit?"

She seemed to smile and Sniper smiled back at her.

"You need to take it back to him though. I won't do anything with it here."

He took it in his hand and extended it for Perle to grab. But she sat proudly, ignoring him completely and waving her white fluffy tail.

"Pearl?"

She licked her paw and didn't pay attention to him. He frowned.

"I know you can hear me and understand me. Why are you doin' this now?"

She put her paw down and turned her back. She was now facing the door and scratching it, as if to ask him to open it. Sniper obliged and Perle headed to her master's room, through the corridor. The Australian, still confused, followed her with his eyes and watched her stop and sit, facing him from the other end of the corridor.

"Meow?"

_Fine, I'll go myself…_

He had been reluctant to follow Perle straight away only out of respect for his friend. He didn't want to disturb him yet another time again because of his cat. But deep down inside, Sniper was only waiting for an opportunity to visit the masked man and _God save that pretty cat…_

The Marksman left his room, followed Perle down the few stairs and stopped in front of Spy's door. He looked down at Perle as he felt like a school boy about to knock at the principal's office door.

_Bugger… What am I s'pposed to say? 'Hey, your cat stole a Christmas ball and insisted that I bring it meself?'- oh wait, whot's that?_

He got his ear closer to the door.

_He's singin'._

Sniper put his hands flat against the door and closed his eyes to focus only on the sound of Spy's voice. He switched off any other physical stimulus to have his full attention on that voice he liked, the slight accent that tickled not only his ears, but his very heart too. His eyes snapped open when he recognised the song. He looked at his feet, Perle had gone in her master's suite through the cat door.

"Howdy pardner?"

Sniper froze.

"Uh?!"

"Sorry to scare you, I was just passing by. You alright?"

Engie had come up the stairs, out of his garage.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I-uh, I gave a knock on his door but with the music, I think he didn't hear me… Thing is, I really need to see him because, uh, well, uh, he-he lent me some'in' and I need to give it back to 'im, see?"

Sniper had started sweating and reached his hand back to the nape of his neck.

"Ah, alrighty then, you might wanna knock again."

"Yeah, cheers mate."

Engie nodded and went away. Now Sniper was trapped, he had to knock. And so he did.

The Frenchman cut his music, put on his mask and gloves and resumed a more cold-blooded attitude before opening the door. As he pulled the knob and looked up, his heart burst in his chest. It was Sniper!

"Hey mate, uhm, sorry to bother you."

"You don't bother me at all, mon ami. Please, do come in."

Sniper obliged.

"As usual, make yourself at home. Do you want to drink something? Some coffee maybe? "

Spy was talking as well as guiding his guest to the sofa where they both sat. His eyes were shining with joy.

"Uh, actually I just came to hand you this back."

Sniper opened his hand while looking at it and Spy saw the shiny ball.

"Perle stole it and brought it to me and, well, uh, I don't know how to explain but, uhm…"

Sniper and Spy raised their heads and their eyes met, for a split second, both their hearts skipped a beat.

"I would tell you to say it in French but I'm not sure you have the vocabulary and grammar for it yet, Bushman."

The Frenchman said, smiling. But Sniper wanted to try anyway, to make an effort for the man he, well,liked.He scratched his sideburn on the right and closed one eye to think.

"Uh, ah, uhm, je dis Perle, uh, donner ça à Spy mais uh… Perle _refused_?"

Spy smiled. He could admit it now, he found it adorable when his friend spoke in French. His voice was very suave and his accent, delicious.

"You would say: J'ai dit à Perle de la donner à Spy mais elle a refusé."

[I asked Perle to give it back to Spy but she refused.]

"Y-yeah, I guess that's roight."

Sniper blushed.

"Sorry I'm so bad at French still…"

"Don't apologise, it took me years to speak English as fluently as I do today and with all that time, I still haven't managed to drop my French accent!"

"Oh, c'mon, your accent's nice, I like it."

Spy looked Sniper in the eye but the Australian blushed and diverted his gaze.

"Yeah, well, anyway, I wanted to give it back to ya, cause, y'know, I don't need it and, well, it's yours so, eh."

"Merci Sniper."

The Frenchman smiled and, for a second, his face radiated kindness, which surprised Sniper. His lips were smiling, obviously, but his cheeks turned pink and his eyes were smiling too, and shining beautifully. Sniper's lips parted slightly, he was in awe. He found his colleaguehandsome when he was happy.He wished he could tear that mask away and see more of him, let his eyes capture all the features of the Frenchman to then store them safely in the intimacy of his memory. He would go back to that image, from time to time, and feel the same lingering flame dancing in him, yearning to…

_Stop it._

He shook his head slightly.

"Uhm, so, yeah, here it is back, and sorry for botherin' you Spook."

Sniper stood up and was about to go, against his own heart's will. But he had come only to give that stupid Christmas ornament back and it would be weird to stay longer without any reason. So he put a hand on his heart to smother it, hoping the Frenchman wouldn't hear it drum hard and fast. He turned his back to Spy to hide his distraught face, while heading for the door.

"Attends!"

[Wait!]

In the spur of the moment, Spy spoke in French directly. Sniper stopped sharp and turned, a light of hope in his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"I have something for you, Bushman, come sit down, please."

How could the marksman resist the Frenchman when he asked him something with that voice and accent? Answer: he could not.

"Oh, uh, really?"

Excellent question, the Frenchman thought. In the moment he had called the Australian back, a mad idea came to him. He knew he would regret this, but screw it all. He just wanted Sniper to stay.

"Oui."

Sniper came back to the sofa and sat down.

"I'm afraid you will hardly be surprised but it is something I worked on for you. It's not much, but it is to say thanks for taking care of me when I was ill."

Spy was talking while putting a disk on the record player. The music started and he adjusted his cashmere top and cleared his throat. He stood in front of Sniper, between him on the sofa and the fire. The Frenchman felt that anxiety of the first time on stage come back to him. The thrill of anticipation, the will to impress. He embraced the challenge, he wanted to succeed and more than anything else, he would not tolerate to fail. Non. What he was about to do, he was about to do it out of despair and fear. He just wanted Sniper to stay with him and spend yet another day with him. He didn't care that he had no valid reason for it and he couldn't care less about what the others would say or think, and by God if they stood between Sniper and him, he would kill and shred them to pieces to an extent that even respawn wouldn't be able to fix! He was simply in love, and the thought of having his loved one go simply broke his hard heart.

\-- **_Author's notes --_**

Thanks for reading and please do let me know what you think of this one!

Also, I will be away for a couple of weeks so the updates will go rare for a while, my apologies for it but I do need my summer break!

See y'all for 16! :D


	16. Chapter 16

Spy was looking intensely at Sniper. He felt the pressure of the moment. Hehad toimpress. And all those emotions he had forgotten came back at him like a fresh wave of the Atlantic in winter. He could see himself on the stage ofLe Conquérantagain, the powerful orchestra behind him, the spotlight shining brightly at him and casting the long shadow of his younger silhouette…

He started singing.

[_To the reader: you might want to listen to 'The Sun Died' by Tom Jones to go with this!]_

_"The sun died, the sun died with my love!_

_When you left me blue,_

_The summer died too._

_My love and the sun, it's the same._

_The sun died, the sun died with my love!_

_And I'm so alone,_

_And yet life goes on,_

_But for me there can't be no more dawn"_

Sniper's jaw had dropped. Spy was singing, his eyes closed and his whole silhouette moving slowly, in rhythm, dancing with the words he was writing in the air with the ink of his voice. He was sinking in the slow violins, bouncing off the double-bass. There was a drum roll and his eyes snapped open, shining fiercely as he opened his arms wide and sang louder, stomping his foot hard into the wooden floor.

"_Yesterday, the coldest winter was like spring!"_

He closed his eyes again as he subtly mastered his vibrato. He put a hand on his heart and extended the other in front of him, as if he was trying to reach for someone's hand.

_"I thought my heart would always sing!"_

He felt his eyes go wet and frowned harder.

_"I thought our love would never end!"_

As he said that, the thought of that woman crossed his mind but he hardly had the time to dwell on it. His heart pushed her and her story away, it had had enough of aching after what Lucien had gone through. Now was the time to wake up again and beat, fast and hard, pump the blood from everywhere in his body and wash away the bitterness, chase down the sadness and throw it away. Oui! Now was the time to love again and oh what a sweet feeling!

"_But that was yesterday."_

He finished singing and the music faded. He remained with his eyes closed and his head lowered.

_Clap… Clap… Clap…_

Sniper applauded slowly, his mouth still wide open and Spy opened his eyes slowly. He felt the heat and the pressure exit his body. It was as if his very skin was releasing steam. Sniper watched as his dear friend blinked a couple of times, his long black eyelashes brushing the air beautifully. But then the marksman noticed…

_His eyelashes are wet…_

Spy took a handkerchief out of his pocket and quickly wiped his eyes. The Australian, seeing how uncomfortable the Frenchman looked, diverted his gaze.

"Voilà. Now you've heard me sing, and you know why I refuse to do that in front of people."

The masked man sat on the sofa and faced the flames. He started to regret it already. His friend must have seen his tears, even though he had tried hard to hold them back. But that's what the Frenchman was at heart, a very romantic man hidden behind a thick mask of fabric and cold-bloodedness. Sniper was looking for words but as usual, he pained to find the right ones.

"Wow, uh, ah, uhm… I mean…"

Spy thought that his friend was going to tell him how disappointed he was at his sensitivity and it was breaking him on the inside. He should never have sung for him, he felt as if he was naked in front of Sniper. The Frenchman put a hand on his face.

"I imagine you are disappointed now, Bushman. You may leave if you want. This time, I will not try and hold you back."

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

"Wh-whot?! You bloody kiddin' me?! Why would I leave?... It was amazin'! Bloody brilliant! I-I'm speechless…"

Spy removed his hand off his face and turned his head to look at Sniper. He expected to see irony, disgust and lie. What he read instead warmed his heart and he did not manage to hold back a smile. The marksman was genuinely impressed and he was being honest. His eyes were shining and his lips were parted slightly. Spy stared at them for a second, feeling his own tickle him. His eyes went up to his friend's.

"Really?"

"Yeah! Have you heard yourself? I'd never have guessed you could sing like that, blimey!"

"And I'm surprised. You seem to have enjoyed it."

"Mate, you blew my mind away! You should have become a singer, not a spook!"

"Well, it used to be my job, before I chose to switch for secret services."

"How come you're not famous worldwide with a voice like that?"

"Haha! I'm flattered, Bushman, but I cut my career short I'm afraid. I've nonetheless kept a very strong link with music. I would say it is one of the few things that stayed with me for more than a year."

"Wait, it used to be your job?'

"Oui, I started in small bars and bistrots in my city of origin. I then moved to Paris to try my luck there and it worked. I used to sing for the best restaurant in all Paris, a place where famous and important people would come and enjoy dinner, on the Champs-Élysées. I'm told some of them even came on purpose, just to listen to me."

"Wow, Spook, if what you're tellin' me is true, then it's just insane!"

The Frenchman smiled and only a small part of his teeth shone.

"Believe me, Bushman. I wouldn't lie to you."

Sniper blushed. But something inside him was doubting the Frenchman's words.

"Why?"

Spy opened wide eyes in surprise. He had not expected the Australian to ask him anything. And it did look like he was pushing it a bit, as Spy had done the previous day. The Frenchman wanted to know the reasons behind such a questioning. Lucky for him, he knew exactly how to get information out of people.

"Why what, Headshot man?"

"Why wouldn't you lie to me? You could be inventin' it all and I wouldn't know."

"How could I invent the voice you just heard? Besides, why are you wondering about that?"

"Ah, true, you can't invent yer voice. But that doesn't answer my question."

"And it doesn't answer mine either."

Sniper couldn't admit it. He couldn't just say that he liked his friend maybe a bit too much, that he was stuck in his mind, that in his bed, late at night, he tried to feel the warmth of the embraces he had shared with him. No, he couldn't say that, so he decided to say nothing.

"Fine then. Nobody gets their answer, Spook."

The Australian turned his head to stare at the fire and didn't see Spy smirk. The Frenchman knew exactly what he was doing. He looked at the fire too and mentally counted down.

_3… 2… 1…_

"I-I just want to uh, to know if I can trust you _really_."

"And the answer is,please do.I might be terrible with friendly relationships but one thing I know is that trust is a fundamental element to them."

"Do _you_ trust me then, Spook?"

Spy look him straight in the eye as Sniper was fidgeting with his fingers.

"Of course, isn't it normal?"

The Frenchman replied with a soft yet confident voice. Sniper was confused. He didn't know if Spy meant that because of their job or if…?

"Roight, I don't really know whot that means but ok."

"It means only what it says. Don't assume I spend my time playing games with people. I only do it when I need to. And I don't need to with you."

"Again, Spook, why?"

The marksman sounded agitated. He was starting to be impatient and adamant on getting his answer, an honest one. Spy was slightly irritated. At least when he pushed his luck, he didn't insist that much!

"I have already answered."

The Australian stood up and looked down at Spy, who was still sitting on the sofa.

"Well what kind of answer is that?! I'll tell you, that's the answer of a bloody spook, makin' mysteries everywhere. You can't help it, can you? All I'm askin' is a simple question!"

Clearly, Sniper was losing his temper. It annoyed Spy equally and the Frenchman stood up to try and be at eye-level with the Australian.

"Ha! A simple question?! Well then, Bushman, answer it yourself if it's _that_ simple! Also then, if it is truly _that_ simple, let me return the favour: Sniper, do _you_ trust me?"

The Frenchman extended his arms in front of Sniper, as if to insist on the fact that the matter was between the Australian's hands, not his own.

"I'd like to, you bloody bogan, which is precisely why I'm askin'!"

"What holds you back then, _imbécile!?_ Why can't you trust me the same way I try and trust you, hm?"

Spy put his hands on his hips.

"Because you're The Spy! Bloody hell, have you forgotten about the reason why you're workin' here?! Mann Co. didn't hire you to make tea and coffee!"

Sniper raised his arms and flapped them down.

Spy's eyes shone fiercely, he gritted his teeth and was now as angry as his colleague.

"I'm glad you realised, _crétin_! And yes _I_ am The Spy, which means that I have spent more time on this Earth distrusting people than you have actually lived! I hardly even know what it means to trust someone Bushman, I've spent decades doubting everyone around me! Have you got any idea of what it means, hm?"

Spy pointed a finger at his colleague and put in on his chest, tapping repeatedly as he grew more angry.

"Do you know what it feels like to have people surrounding you who call themselves 'friends' or 'colleagues' and who could easily sell you for their own advantage and leave you to be tortured by a foreign army?!"

As Spy was tapping his index finger on his colleague, the taller man took a step back.

"Do you know what it means to be deployed far from home, feel like the odd one in the crowd?! Feel like everything and everyone is permanently watching your every moves, your very breaths?!"

Sniper was walking backwards more and more, under the pressure of his colleague's harsh voice and angry face.

"Bushman, do you know what it feels to see someone for months, years, you've even planned to cross everything out of your life for them and one day you wake up and you're left with only your eyes to cry?!"

Sniper's back hit the wall but Spy was now closing the gap and stood on the tip of his toes to really be at eye-level with him.

"_OF COURSE YOU DON'T! LUCKY YOU!"_

Sniper had opened wide eyes. He felt terrified. Seeing the Frenchman properly angry was something he now wished to no one, not even his enemies. Spy's loud voice resounded in the room and in his skull. He now realised what a nightmare it must be to be a spy. The paranoia, the pressure, the fear, the infinite loop of lies.

Spy calmed his voice down.

"When you're a spy, nothing is true, nothing is real, nothing lasts and everything serves a purpose. There's no such thing as innocence. But despite all that, I am trying my best to trust you, Sniper. So please, _please_, do trust me in life as you would on the battlefield, at least."

Sniper felt deeply sorry for his friend.

"I-I… Come 'ere."

He wrapped his arms around the Frenchman and hugged him tightly while inhaling deeply. Spy buried his head in his friend's chest and it hit him on the inside. That sudden close contact, the comfort he got from that hug in Sniper's arms, he could feel the Australian's hand on the back of his head and the other on the small of his back. Having hidden Spy's face in his arms, Sniper felt more comfortable to speak. The eyes of the Frenchman wouldn't stare into his soul and judge him.

"I'm sorry Spy, I didn't mean to make you angry or anythin'. It's just that… I know it's hard to trust someone, ok? I mean because you're the one who's paid to lie, it makes it hard to trust you but-but believe me Spook, I really want to trust you, I _really_ do…"

Spy heard Sniper's voice and felt it resonate in his own chest, it made his heart beat faster. He freed himself from Sniper's embrace and looked up at him. The Australian still kept his hands on the Frenchman.

"But Sniper, I have already trusted you. I told you things that no one here knows about me, I've even shared my voice with you. If you don't find it in your heart to trust me after that, I don't know what will."

Sniper's heart woke up brutally and Spy stared at him sadly.

_Well, if I had any means to know that you like me, maybe not like I like you but… But if I could know…_

From his side, the Frenchman was starting to doubt that the marksman felt anything for him. Maybe he just liked him like a friend. But he wanted to be sure. So once more, he crossed the line. Sniper watched as Spy removed one glove, then the other, and threw them on the floor. He knew what he was going to do could ruin it all. But here he was, pressed against the man his mind was busy with, in his arms and maybe about to lose him. So that was the right moment to step it up and make it clearer to him.Spy wouldn't cope with losing Sniper.

The Frenchman, still staring deep in the Australian's eyes, took his right hand in his and put it against his cheek, tilting his head slightly. He was screaming with his eyes and arched his eyebrows.

_Don't you understand, Bushman!?_

Sniper's eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. He couldn't breathe, his body actually didn't care about breathing anymore. He could only feel his heartbeat everywhere in his body as his hand was sandwiched between the Frenchman's and his cheek. He felt the fabric of the mask and the occasional soft tingling of Spy's very short beard through it. The Australian's chest was burning. His friend had made it quite clear.

_He wouldn't do that if he didn't like me, roight? He wouldn't look at me like that, would he? Bugger, bugger, bugger! He wouldn't have me stroke his cheek, roight? I've never stroked a friend's cheek, maybe-maybe it's a thing in France? Maybe that's how they show they're friendly?_

Spy slowly blinked and Sniper's pupils dilated like a cat in the dark. The Frenchman was waiting and expecting the Australian to react. He had made a bold move and was desperate for him to do something, anything, even if it was to push him away. He had crossed the line and was ready to face the consequences of it. Or at least, so he thought.

Spy was looking up to his friend as the taller man did something that made his heart burst yet again. Sniper had put his other hand on the Frenchman's mask, on the other cheek. Spy dropped Sniper's hand and laid his flat on his chest. He smiled shyly, his cheeks turning pink. Sniper was still breathing in short fast bursts. He tilted his head down and rested his forehead on Spy's, closing his eyes.

"You can trust me, Sniper," The Frenchman whispered. And he heard Sniper take a deep breath and relax.

**_\-- Author's notes --_**

Thank y'all for reading and please let me know what you think!

Thanks to Crows for their brilliant editing!

Also, I'll be taking a bit of summer holiday so my updates will be slowed down I'm afraid!

See you for 17!


	17. Chapter 17

The wind was howling violently outside as the blizzard was raging. The sky was grey, the ground was grey, everything was covered in such a thick layer of snow that life had turned into a monochrome. The only nuances were due to the clouds blocking the sunlight at some places and letting it through at others. The snowfall was still very intense, as was the atmosphere in Spy's smoking room.

Here they were, Sniper and Spy, the marksman and the masked man. They were both in the Frenchman's smoking room, against the wall. Both had closed their eyes to appreciate the moment. They were head against head, breathing fast and through each other's breaths, they could hear the other's heartbeat.

Spy took a step back and, taking Sniper by the hand, he lead him back on the sofa. Both men sat down and Spy looked at Sniper seriously.

"Sniper, now I need to ask you something. And please take your time and answer me as honestly and brutally as you can."

The Australian gulped.

"I would like to know if… Hm… How may I say this…?"

The marksman wanted to help him find his words.

"Say it in French, mate."

"But you might not understand."

"I will."

"Bien. J'aimerais savoir si tu ressens là même chose ou si tu te forces."

Sniper frowned.

"So you just said 'I'd like to know if you feel the same or if you force yourself.', roight?"

Spy nodded.

"Mate, I-I… Uh, I wouldn't force m'self. I don't have the patience for that. If I… if I… ugh, why are words so hard?! What I want to say is…"

He sighed.

"If I wanted to push you back, I would have done it long ago and I wouldn't have come back to ya."

"So?"

Spy wanted a clear answer. Sniper smiled.

"So… I guess it-it means that… I, I hate you as much as you hate me, Spook."

He said that and tapped on his colleague's nose with his index finger. Spy pulled up his nose, smiling and Sniper's pupils widened again. He put a hand on his cheek, on the fabric of the mask. His thumbs then slid to the exposed skin, next to Spy's mouth.

"Apologies for my stinging. I did not expect you to come and thus, I didn't shave."

Sniper answered with a tender smile.

"Can-can I…. Uhm..?"

His finger went to the edge of the mask, on Spy's cheek and he slid a fraction of his index finger underneath.

"Is-is that ok?"

"Oui, as long as you don't remove my mask."

"Oh, I'd never do that."

Spy felt the long fingers of the Australian slide further underneath his mask.

"I like your skin… You always look so… non-human… with the mask."

Spy removed Sniper's hands and took them in his.

"I might seem so, but…"

He put Sniper's hand on his chest.

"Am I really non-human?"

The marksman felt his friend's heartbeat.

"Nah. Nah you're not."

"I'm glad you can see this. Not a lot of people do."

"Spy, I-I… I'm wonderin' about work. How will we… uh, y'know?"

"No one has to know, unless you want them to know. I don't mind if you tell them or if you don't. But as far as I see this, work is something and this-"

The Frenchman pointed at Sniper's heart.

"-this, is something else."

The marksman nodded.

"Roight, makes sense…"

Silence fell as Spy leant back on Sniper, on his shoulder. The Australian curled his arm around him.

"I must admit I am quite surprised."

"Why?"

"I did not expect you to enjoy the company of men."

"Oh, I like both, but very differently. Well, actually, I do prefer men. We're more straight-forward, we're less hard to talk to and have a good laugh with. Sheilas can be a nightmare… What about you?"

"I don't mind much. But I agree, I like one differently than the other. And I feel like it's easier to confide in a man, but that's a luxury I can't afford."

"Whot d'you mean?"

"Being a secret service agent, I can't confide in anyone really."

"You can now."

Spy looked up at Sniper and the taller man met his eyes.

"I'm not a Spook and I'm not talkative. I know how to keep my mouth shut."

Spy raised his head and left a quick peck on Sniper's cheek. The Australian felt himself got hot and red as a brick in an instant.

"Merci."

The marksman smiled and bending down, he left a long kiss on the top of Spy's head. He then squeezed him closer to him.

"It's nothin'."

Silence fell again and the couple enjoyed each other's company.

"Spy?"

"Hm?"

"D'you… Do you…? Uh, y'know what? I'm not gonna say anything."

"What did you want to ask?"

"I can't say it."

The Frenchman felt that the Australian was struggling so he decided against trying to look him in the eye.

"Yes you can. Just say what you think. I will not be offended or surprised, Bushman. Speak your mind."

Sniper took a deep breath.

"Do you, erm, _like_ me a lot?"

Spy smiled. He took the Australian's hand and put it on his lips, left a quick and tender kiss.

"Oui, a lot."

"You-you sure?"

"Oui, Sniper."

"G-good…"

The marksman was hesitant to say it. He was fighting within himself.

Oh and damn it all!

"Cause I-I think about you a lot, y'know."

"I do, too. But what exactly do you think about when the thought of me crosses your mind?"

Sniper blushed and started fidgeting with his fingers.

"I-I can't say it… It's nice things, eh, but uh…"

"Let me say what I think then."

The Frenchman freed himself from Sniper's arm and looked him in the eye.

"When I think of you, it's only to realise that I miss you, that I would want to have you here, close to me. Those past few weeks, when I gave you advice on how to taste wine, or when I taught you some French words, I felt warm and happy in my heart. But the minute you leave and I close the door, I feel empty."

Spy lowered his head and paused.

"Un seul être vous manque et tout est dépeuplé."

"Whot?"

"It's a verse from a famous poem. It means 'A single being goes missing and the whole world is empty.' And that's exactly what I felt, each time I would push and close that door."

He smiled sadly and did not notice Sniper's jaw dropping slowly.

"I would even sometimes put my ear against the door and listen to your footsteps fade away, hoping that I would hear you turn on your heels and come back."

Spy raised his head and put his still naked hand on Sniper's cheek. He brushed it with his thumb. His eyelids slowly fell on his eyes as his long and thin fingers slid up to Sniper's sideburn. The Frenchman bent forward slowly, closing the gap between the Australian's face and his. He resumed his speech, whispering. And it seemed to Sniper that the Frenchman's words flowed on the air like a sweet and warm vapor gliding through his ear and tickling his heart. Spy's whispering resembled a snake's hisses, only this time, it was stinging the Australian's soul in a way that the man could not resist.

"When I hear your door close, the bang of it breaks my foolish heart and I'm left alone, here. It's almost as if there is a string tying me to you and the further you are away from me, the stronger it pulls me to you, like a rubber band. And it hurts Sniper, it hurts to hear you go away, as it hurts to see you fade away.Tu me manques, tout simplement."

[I miss you, quite simply.]

Sniper was speechless and even if he didn't understand that last sentence, he felt it everywhere in his body. The Frenchman's whisper both calmed him but also urged him to do something foolish… Their faces were but an inch apart and Sniper's lips were parted. His eyes sank down and he closed them. The Frenchman smiled. He had noticed that his friend had a weakness for the sweet nothings whispered to him in French. Spy turned to rest his weight on his knee, on the sofa, and got closer to Sniper's ear. The Australian held his breath, his eyes still closed.

"Sniper, je pense à toi, tout le temps, de jour comme de nuit. Tu me manques."

[Sniper, I think of you all the time, all the time, day and night, I miss you.]

The Australian exhaled loudly as he lost contact with his limbs. It felt like the only working parts of his body were his heart, his ears and his lips;maybe something else too.Spy had taken his breath away.

"I-I can see now how you could get sheilas by the dozen!"

Spy smiled.

"Ah, but it is not _a sheila_ I am after, now."

"Y-yeah, o'course, but still. You've got to teach me some day, Spook."

"What? Teach you how to go around seducing people? So that you go away from me?!"

Sniper realised that indeed, his suggestion was not the best he could come up with…

"Oh, no, no, that's not whot I meant! Sorry, sorry Spook, I-I-"

Spy chuckled.

"Ne t'inquiète pas, I know what you meant. But I'm afraid seducing is extremely personal. There are some general guidelines, of course, but I can only teach you how to get to someone if I know them."

[Don't worry]

Sniper turned his head to face the Frenchman next to him. Their faces were a couple inches apart and he looked in Spy's light blue eyes.

"Teach me how to get to you then, please."

The Australian said, half whispering, half growling. Spy could not but bite his lower lip, feeling something hot in his guts surging up in his body. His eyes went down from his friend's eyes, to his thin nose and his very thin lips. He stared at them for a split second.

"But Bushman, you already got me."

"Really?"

"Oui. You know what I like in you?"

Sniper shook his head.

"Everything that I don't know yet about you. I like the fact that you're not the most social or talkative. I love your silent company but then when you start using your voice, it seems to me that you're playing on the strings of my heart like a slow and mellow violin. I can hear everything wave and vibrate inside me… It is such a delight for my ears to hear you."

The Australian smiled.

"Wow, I-I had no idea you felt all that…"

"Oh, that and much more. But I don't want to overwhelm you, Sniper."

The marksman opened wide eyes and his lips parted. The Frenchman smiled tenderly. He whispered.

"But in the end, Sniper, just know that…"

He got even closer to the Australian, putting his hands on his cheeks.

"Je ne te hais point."

[I don't hate you at all.]

Spy rested his head against Sniper's. The Australian put his hands on top of the Frenchman's and pulled him out of the sofa. Both of them were standing up now. Sniper slid his hands along Spy's sides, on the cashmere top and stopped at his waist. He rested his head on the Frenchman's. Both men breathed fast and a bit loud.

Spy was looking up and saw that his friend had his eyes closed. He smiled and, yielding to the temptation, he got his lips just a bit closer to Sniper's. They briefly brushed past. He did not put any effort to kiss him. He just wanted to ask him if he could, if he also wanted it, but without words. Of course he would understand if the taller man thought it was going too fast, or if he just did not want to. Sniper frowned and exhaled only a bit louder. Spy did not know if that was a yes or a no and so, he decided against trying anything any more. But Sniper bent down only a bit more and took Spy's upper lip between his. The Frenchman rolled his eyes up and closed them. His legs gave up but thank God Sniper was pulling him to himself strongly from his waist.

The Australian quickly withdrew from Spy's lips.

"I-I'm sorry mate, I don't know, I just, I thought-I wanted… I'm sorry."

He took a step back, feeling like he stole the sweetest fruit there ever was. He withdrew his hands from Spy's sides and put them quickly in his pockets. He stared down, too afraid to look the reason his heart was beating in the eye. Those ice cold eyes, those hypnotising eyes, those eyes that could read him directly, those delicate, very light blue eyes that made him feel naked each and every time he saw that they were laid on him.

The Frenchman took a step forward and curled a hand behind Sniper's neck. He pulled him down as he pushed himself to the tip of his toes and pressed his lips ever so delicately on the taller man's. Meanwhile, with his free hand, he put Sniper's hands back on his waist.

"Sniper…"

He put his lips on Sniper's again and pulled him to himself stronger. The Australian reciprocated and Spy felt his lover's fingers clench on his waist and pull him harder.

They soon parted from each other's lips.

"Wow… It… It's been such a long time; I haven't felt that."

Spy smirked.

"The real question is: did you appreciate it?"

Sniper blushed and, being too shy to say that he just adored the moment, he nodded and smiled.

"Good, because I did too. You're not such a bad kisser after all…"

"Oi! I'm a bit rusty, but I've never been called a bad kisser!"

"Well then, allow me to test this better, hm?"

Sniper smiled and dived in Spy's lips again. He pulled him in with his hands and his lips, hugging him not like a friend, but like a lover, making sure that Spy would feel his whole body against him. For the Frenchman a kiss might be a trivial matter but not for Sniper. Nah. Agreeing to give his lips to someone was a big deal. It was sealing into the flesh of the other that yes, he loved him. He wanted him at that moment and the world around could collapse, turn into vapor or shatter into a million smithereens, he would not care. His only concern was to tell Spy that he was not his friend anymore. He was now his lover. Sniper was admitting that Spy was the one his mind was busy with constantly, may it be actively, right before falling asleep and wishing very hard that he would see him in his dreams, or unconsciously, in the background, as he cleaned his rifles. Sniper was trying to say all those things in the twist of a lip. He wished the Frenchman understood.

And of course he did. Spy was surprised at how desperate the kiss felt. Sniper had really wanted Spy's lips. It seemed to the Frenchman that the Australian was pulling almost violently on him. Part of him loved the feeling, it showed how much Sniper had been craving it. But another part of him felt sad. Did Sniper want a kiss with Spy or was he craving a kiss with anyone?

Obviously it was with Spy! Sniper could not believe that he was holding, between his lips and between his hands, the man that had more love conquests than Australia had species of wild animals. He was melting under the Frenchman's sweet, sweet lips. But soon Spy wanted more control.

He slid his hands from Sniper's cheeks down to his chest. He grabbed the Australian's jumper and pulled on it.

"_Tu n'es pas le seul à avoir crevé d'envie de t'embrasser."_

_[You are not the only one who has been craving to kiss you.]_

He managed to whisper as Sniper's hands started to slide, one downwards, and the other upwards, on Spy's back.

"Spy…"

Their breath accelerated and lost any kind of sync for a moment. Their hands explored, discovering each other's silhouette, the contours of the other's body. The breaths were now loud.

"_Spy… I love you, I love you…"_

Spy's eyebrows arched up and he started pushing his lover who had no choice but to walk backwards. Step after step, first slowly and confidently, but soon the steps went faster.

_Bang_.

Sniper's back hit the door to Spy's bedroom and as the bang resounded, the Frenchman broke the kiss and everything. The touch stopped, his breath got cut sharp and short. Sniper opened his eyes and saw Spy's horrified face. He had one hand laid flat on Sniper's chest and put the other one on his own. The Australian was confused and at a total loss.

"Are-are you alroight? Did I do somethin'?"

"Non, non… Argh…"

Spy was breathing with difficulty.

"Sniper I-..."

"Whot? Tell me, tell me, Spy."

The Frenchman raised his eyes to the taller man. He was terrified.

"Sniper, je t'aime."

[Sniper, I love you.]

\-- **_Author's notes --_**

Thanks for your patience and thanks for reading this one :D

I am still on holiday so still typing very slowly!

As always, please do let me know what you think of this one :D

See you later :)


	18. Chapter 18

Spy found himself alone in his room again. He needed the solitude for a moment, to be able to collect himself and think. He had asked Sniper to leave right after telling him that indeed, he loved him and seeing the utter shock and horror on his lover's face, the Australian obliged.

One might think that such a statement had become a trifle for the womanizer that Spy was. And indeed, in his younger days, there was no easier sentence to say: je t'aime, I love you, te amo, ich liebe dich... But now, everything had changed. It had been a long time since he had last said it like that. First, it had come out of him as if some invisible hand had dived into his mouth and tore the words out of his very soul, springing out again with those terrible words that the Frenchman thought he had buried deeper than he could ever get. And he had said it in French. For some odd reason, saying things in English felt completely different than in his mother tongue. In French, things were more true, more honest, and thus stronger.

Spy lit a cigarette and took a long drag off of it. He frowned.

He had said it: je t'aime. But not only had he said it, he also felt it, like a powerful punch on his chest. Those powerful words made his lungs collapse and his heart stop. The air was scarce, he could not breathe. The issue was not saying "Je t'aime", the issue was hearing himself say it. Also, the way his body reacted was more than enough for him to understand. He did not just want Sniper to be with him, or spend a night with him. He did not just want Sniper's body, non. And thinking about it, it almost disgusted him. Not Sniper's body, but the thought of him just wanting that.

_Bleh._

Spy stuck his tongue out and exhaled some of his cigarette smoke. Non. He did not just want that other man for ridiculous and sudden physical satisfaction. He loved the man.

The Frenchman stood up and started walking back and forth in his smoking room. Having a short and insignificant love story, that was fine, he was used to it. Having a one night story too. Having a companion, just to release some physical tension, he had done that as well.

But with Sniper, it was different. Something was different. Spy himself felt different. But what did he feel exactly? What did he want?

He finished his second cigarette and lit the third, pulling on his mask to remove it. His hair was disorganised but he did not care.

What did he want? Argh…

Spy sighed and kept on walking back and forth. Perle laid in her basket and followed her master with her eyes.

He did not know what he wanted. He just… He wanted Sniper. Yes, but what in Sniper? Argh! He wanted to know him. He wanted to unravel and unlock all the secrets that the very silent Australian man had. Why? Was it only professional curiosity? Non, of course not and if it was, it would be solved very easily. On the day that Spy got hired by Mann Co., he knew he would be working in a team and he also knew that Medic would have a copy of everyone's files. It was only child's play for him to sneak in and get those documents.

Spy walked to a drawer and opened. Here they were, the documents. Of course he had made a copy and returned the original ones to Medic. The Frenchman was far from interested in anyone's dental records or place of origin. He flicked through the different pages and found Sniper's file. The Frenchman took it in his hand. It was a brown file with the Mann Co. logo at the top. It read "The Sniper" in bold, red letters. With one hand, Spy closed the drawer and went to sit on the sofa. He put the cigarette between his lips and was about to open the file when…

"Meow."

Perle put her paw on the file, as if she was preventing him from opening it. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?"

[What's the matter?]

"Meow."

"Je veux regarder ce dossier."

[I want to have a look at this file.]

Perle hissed and raised her hair everywhere. Her tail pointed straight up and she arched her back.

"Pourquoi tu t'énerves?"

[Why are you getting angry?]

_Lucien…_

He read in her eyes something that was not pure anger. It was a warning. She was asking him to think again before opening it. Spy removed his hand from the file and mussed his hair.

"Si je ne regarde pas son dossier, comment diable saurais-je si c'est simplement de la curiosité professionnelle ou…?"

[If I don't look at his file, how the hell would I know if it's mere professional curiosity or…?]

_Ou quoi?_

_[Or what?]_

Spy lowered his head. He wanted to be certain that his will to know Sniper was or not driven by his countless years of experience as a spy. He looked at Perle as she sat and calmed down.

_Tous les deux, nous savons que ce n'est absolument pas de la curiosité professionnelle._

_[Both of us know that it is absolutely not professional curiosity.]_

Once again, Perle was right. He put the file aside and looked at her.

"Qu'est-ce que je suis censé faire alors?"

[What am I supposed to do then?]

_Parle-moi et dis-moi ce que tu penses._

_[Talk to me and tell me what you feel.]_

Spy sighed and a long cloud of smoke flew out of his parted lips. He put his fingers on his temples to ease the headache that he felt was creeping up on him.

_Que voudrais-tu lui dire?_

_[What would you like to tell him?]_

Spy took a deep breath.

"I would like to know what is happening, to me. What I felt when I said I loved you, I rarely felt before. In fact, the last time I said I love you like that was when-"

He gasped and put a hand on his heart.

"Je suis ridicule. On ne se connaît que depuis quelques semaines et je tombe amoureux comme une gamine…"

[I am ridiculous. We have known eachother only for a couple of weeks and I fall in love like a little girl.]

He sighed and looked at Perle.

"Je ne sais pas ce que j'ai."

[I don't know what's wrong with me.]

_Parce que tu n'as rien. Tu l'aimes mais tu te prends trop la tête. Et pourquoi? Parce que tu n'arrives pas à t'enlever complètement cette femme de la tête. Lucien, accepte tes sentiments et arrête d'avoir peur._

_[Because nothing is wrong with you. You love him but you over analyse everything. And why is that? Because you can't completely remove that woman out of your mind. Lucien, accept those feelings and stop being afraid.]_

"Mais Perle, la dernière fois que j'ai réellement aimé quelqu'un, ça s'est tellement mal fini…!"

[But Perle, last time I really loved someone, it all ended up so terribly bad…!]

Spy dropped himself on the sofa and threw his head back, staring at the ceiling.

"Et pourtant, je l'aime. Je l'aime et je ne m'imagine pas passer un jour sans lui. Même là, il me manque."

[And yet, I love him. I love him and I cannot possibly imagine spending a day without him. Even right now, I'm missing him."

\-- _Sniper's room --_

"Bugger…"

Sniper had laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He put a hand on the bridge of his finger and rubbed his eyes from under his tinted glasses.

"I hope I didn't do anythin' wrong… Maybe what he meant when he asked me if I forced myself was that in fact he was forcin' himself… Oh shite…"

He facepalmed as he realised that maybe he was the one pressuring Spy too much.

"Nah, it can't be like that, roight? He-he was the one to kiss me, or was it the other way around?"

Sniper sat up on the bed and Hootsy perched himself on his shoulder. The Australian let his hand sink on his face.

"Hoo?"

"I think I messed up, Hootsy. I messed up, big time. He was tryin' to tell me that-uh?"

_Scritch, scritch…_

Sniper raised an eyebrow. He recognised that sound and what confirmed his suspicion was Hootsy flying to the door knob.

"Hoo, hoo!"

"Roight, roight."

The Australian went to the door and opened.

"Meow!"

Perle stood on her back legs and put her front paws up on the Australian's leg.

"Come in, Pearl."

She obeyed and he closed the door. Sniper sat on his bed and the lady cat jumped on his lap.

"Why did you come to me?"

"Meow."

"He asked me to leave, I'm not goin' back there."

"Meow!"

"Nah, did you see the look on his face after we-"

He sighed.

"Well, I guess I just saw what I wanted to see. It-it's fine, I'll get over it."

Perle jumped down and bit Sniper's trousers, next to his ankle.

"Nah, I said I won't follow you this time. He doesn't want to see me."

She released the grip on his trousers and went to the door, scratching it again to get out. Sniper stood up and opened it. He felt overwhelmed by a feeling of defeat and frustration. He thought he was the one with complicated emotions but it turns out that the Frenchman was something else.

_Bang._

He closed the door again and sat on his chair, the wrong way around, to look through the window. There was nothing to see and everything was deadly dull. His eyes went from the ground up to the sky. Grey-grey-grey-dark grey. Dull and in shades of gray, like the inside of his heart.

\-- _Spy's smoking room --_

The Frenchman had not moved from his sofa. He was still laying there, like a dead fish drying on the shore.

"Meow."

He straightened his head. Perle was on his lap.

"Quoi?"

[What?]

She did not answer because she knew that the stare would be enough.

"Hoo?"

Spy raised an eyebrow.

_Tik-tik-tik-tik_.

The sound of Hootsy's claws on the wooden floor startled him.

"Mais qu'est-ce que tu fais là toi?"

[What the hell are you doing here?]

The owl jumped on Spy's lap, next to Perle.

"Hoo-hooo."

"Mon Dieu, je ne parle pas le hibou, je ne sais pas ce que tu veux."

[My God, I don't speak owl, I don't know what you want.]

The Frenchman looked at Perle with question marks in his eyes.

_Va et parle-lui._

_[Go and talk to him.]_

He sighed.

"Alors c'est ça? Vous êtes venus me chercher pour que j'aille le voir?"

[So that's it? You came to me so that I go to see him?]

Spy crushed his hundredth cigarette butt on the ashtray next to him.

"Bien."

[Well.]

Perle and Hootsy left his lap and the Frenchman stood up. He grabbed his mask and put it on. He looked around him for a second and saw the gloves on the floor and the file on the sofa. Spy collected them all, put the file away in the drawer and slid his hands in his gloves. He took a second to look at himself in the mirror and arranged his top and hid the front white tuft that was escaping from the mask.

The Frenchman then opened the door and exited his suite with Hootsy firmly perched on his shoulder.

\-- _Sniper's room --_

_Scritch, scritch, scritch._

Sniper sighed. He got off his chair.

"Pearl, I can't always come and open up to ya."

He put his hand on the door knob, twisted it and…

"You've gotta go back to Sp-oh…"

There he was, _the Spook._

"Hello again Sniper. May I...please?"

The Australian nodded and let his friend in, closing the door behind him. Spy stood up until Sniper motioned him to take a seat.

"Merci."

Sniper sat on his bed and Spy, on the chair. They were facing each other.

"You, uhm, your eyes. They're very red. You alroight?"

"I have smoked a couple cigarettes."

Well, to be nearer the truth, he had committed a genocide in his cigarette case…

"I am truly sorry for my behaviour earlier and I apologise sincerely. I might have scared you or given you the wrong impression."

Sniper shrugged.

"Do you accept my apologies?"

"I don't know, Spook. I don't understand you. One minute you kiss me and the next one you ask me to leave. Was it me? Did I somehow forced you to do it and you didn't want to?"

Spy opened wide, surprised eyes.

"Non, non, non! Absolutely not!"

"Then what?"

Spy sighed.

"The problem was not you, never. It was me. I realised that saying what I said to you was, well, overwhelmingly strong, for lack of a better way of putting it."

"But, wait, I'm a bit confused, did you really mean it?"

Spy stood up and got the chair closer to the edge of the bed. He sat down again, elegantly, as he always did.

"Sniper, I-"

"Yes or no? Spook, quit yer fancy talk and gimme a simple answer. Because I-I… I need to know and be sure."

Spy looked his lover in the eye and saw how hard Sniper wished that the answer was yes. Or rather, he saw how much the Australian dreaded a "no". His eyes were zig-zagging from Spy's right eye to the left one repeatedly and fast.

"What is your question?"

The Frenchman asked calmly.

"Do you… D'you… Uh, you know what I want to ask!"

"Indeed I do but for the sake of clarity, say it. So that we are both sure. I will be sure of what you ask and will provide an answer that will be as blunt as the question."

Sniper turned red as a brick and he started shaking. He was very nervous and his shyness was not helping. The Australian put a hand on his forehead as he felt the sweat break there. He was breathing fast and short and he felt hot. How would he manage to say it? He couldn't! It was too… Direct, too personal, too intimate! He wished he could be a tiny, tiny insect in the room.

Spy removed one of his gloves and put a hand on Sniper's. He felt the trembling running through his lover's body. Sniper closed his eyes and raised his head up.

"Do you… love… me?"

He opened his eyes again but lowered his head. Sniper was sweating heavily now.

"Oui."

There was no hesitation, no split second to think. The Australian gasped silently and his head shot up to look at Spy. The latter was smiling tenderly.

"R-really?"

"Oui, Sniper, je-je…"

It was hard to say but if Sniper managed to ask, then Spy had to answer.

"Je t'aime."

And it seemed to Spy that he had come back to being Lucien, the young, charming, handsome man. The womanizer, the smooth talker, the man who needed only the snap of his fingers for the ladies to bend and fall like dark red roses under the night's summer breeze. He felt young again, but not just any kind of young. The Frenchman saw himself there , in Boston, that fatal night. He had said it exactly the same way, hesitantly, the blush in his cheeks blurring the vision of the pretty face he was declaring his love to. And back then, he remembered that it had felt like the start of a new life, one that he could finally lead as a decent man. He had started from the bottom and there he was, he was suddenly understanding all those men who had said to him "when you meet the right one, you'll understand.". He had thought he had been through all that and it would happen only once, but there he was again.

However, a voice within him was silently whispering, from somewhere deep behind his ear, at the back of his mind. There was fear at the bottom of his soul. Would it end the same? Would he be taken to the highest highs only to fall deeper that he could think possible? Again?

_Non. Hors de question._

_[No. It's out of the question.]_

Sniper slid his fingers through the Frenchman's, who of course reciprocated. It was most beautiful in its innocence. Two professional killers now lovers, holding hands, their fingers intertwined as much as they wanted their destinies to be. The pressure from Sniper's fingers broke Spy's train of thought.

"Spook, you-you bein' serious?"

"Am I in the habit of joking?"

Sniper was smiling one of those earnest, almost naive smiles.

"Oh bugger… I-I can't believe it… How? Why? You and-and me?"

"Because you're someone I can only dream of having at my side."

Sniper's smile faded.

"Whot?"

"You are honest, true to yourself, you play no game with people. Innocent, you are innocent. And…"

Spy smiled.

"You have a particular kind of charm, absolutely exquisite in my opinion."

Sniper blushed and lowered his head to hide his tomato red face.

"Oh, wow, I-I don't think I do… If anything, you're the handsome bloke!"

"Oh, you flatter me too much!"

They both exchanged a laugh and their cheeks turned pink.

"No, no I'm not! I'm sure that underneath that mask, you've got a face that could kill by just looking at it."

Spy blushed slightly.

"Good thing I wear a mask then, hm?"

"Come on, admit it! I'm sure that under there, you just look gorgeous!"

"Well, I cannot deny Nature has been most kind with me."

The Frenchman could not hold back a proud smirk and deep down, Sniper wished he would see it someday, that face. It had made countless ladies and men fall so it was eager to see its beauty. But of course, like any other marvel of nature, one had to be patient before enjoying it.

"Sniper?"

"Hm?"

"I got scared of the words I said to you because, well, I am ashamed to say they escaped me."

"Why would you be ashamed?"

"My trade is to keep secrets and I can't even lie on something so… Uhm… Argh, merde! How do you say that in English…?"

The Frenchman was looking very hard for that word.

"Whatever the word you're lookin' for, I'm bloody glad you let those words escape."

"Quite right."

There was a moment of silence where Sniper took Spy's other hand and put his fingers at the edge of the glove, around the Frenchman's wrist. He held his fingers there for a second.

"Can-can I?"

"Oui, you may."

Sniper smiled and remove the other glove.

"Your hands."

"What about them?"

Sniper ran his fingers everywhere on Spy's naked hand.

"They're very… soft… They're almost like a woman's…"

"I'm glad someone notices! I use a hand cream that works wonders. It's a product that I order and have imported from India. It smells of vanilla."

Sniper put Spy's hand under his nose and took in a bit of the air that floated on his lover's hand.

"Hmm… You're roight, it smells amazin'!"

"I can lend it to you and you can try it if you want."

Sniper had closed his eyes and put his lips on the Frenchman's hand.

"Spy?"

"Oui?"

"I love you."

Spy got taken aback and it took him a second to digest the words and get his body back in a state where he could answer.

"Moi aussi."

[Me too.]

He leapt forward from his chair and put his lips on Sniper's for a long and passionate kiss. It meant a lot, that kiss. Spy felt he was doing more than just touching Sniper's lips. Non, it felt different… The Australian realised that indeed his lover had burnt entire fields of tobacco and not only "a couple cigarettes" as he pretended. But he didn't care. As it turned out, the marksman had now also become addicted to Spy's cigarettes, _not for the nicotine though._

The Frenchman soon felt Sniper's hand on his cheek and shoulder, pulling him. He let the Australian lead him to sit next to him on the bed. Their hands touched, gliding on fabric and skin smoothly to make sure that the other one was really there. It was not a dream, not a fantasy, it was real and it was happening.

They finished with Sniper's hand stroking Spy's back while Spy was clinging on his jumper, on the Australian's chest. They broke the kiss and looked at each other with heavy eyelids, eyes half closed and almost crossing their eyes.

Spy then put his head on Sniper's shoulder and the Australian wrapped his arms around him.

"It's rather cold in your room, Sniper."

"Yeah, the sun is almost finishin' to set and I don't have a fire here… Wait, I got an idea."

The marksman put his hands on the base of his jumper and yanked it, pulling it upwards to remove it. Spy's pupils widened as now Sniper was in a red, long-sleeved polo shirt. The Australian then put his jumper on Spy's shoulders.

"But you? Aren't you cold?"

"Well, not after what we just did…"

Sniper blushed slightly.

"I might get cold a bit later."

"How do you manage to sleep here, I imagine it gets freezing during the night!"

The Australian nodded.

"Yeah, it's not very warm… I-I must admit that thinkin' of you helps…"

"Oh, I see."

Spy saw an opportunity to make his lover blush so much he would lose his tongue. How could he resist it?

"So you think of me in your bed at night, hm?"

"Oh, uh, I mean, heh, uh-"

"And it helps you stay warm?"

Spy was smirking and, being against Sniper, he heard his heart panic.

"I see, Bushman, I see…"

"It-it's not whot you think, I-I mean, uh, I don't uh-"

Spy smiled and moved away from his lover's arms to look him in the eye. The taller man trying his best to smile back but his embarrassment was just too strong.

"Sniper?"

"Y-yeah?"

"I'm glad you do think of me in your bed at night."

Sniper nervously cleared his throat and gulped.

"Do you know why?"

The marksman shook his head and looked down to meet Spy's eyes. The Frenchman got closer to his ears and whispered.

"_Because I do think of you when I'm alone too."_

Sniper closed his eyes and frowned, he could only blush that much! But then his eyes snapped open when he felt something touch his neck under his ear. He understood it was the Frenchman's lips and rolled up his eyes, sighing almost silently, his shoulders melting. Spy noticed how great an effect it had on his lover and made a mental note of it. It made him smile and decided to explore further.

He let his lips travel through the Australian's neck, from under his ear down. He pulled the collar of his polo shirt down to expose more of the skin on his lover's shoulder and kissed it gently, only pressing his lips repeatedly while taking it the faint scent of Sniper's cheap cologne. The marksman did not know how to react and in any case, his lover was just too good at that game. Besides, the warmth that was springing from his own body was too strong to coldly dismiss. There was but one way to react…

Spy moved back to his lover's mouth and took his upper lip between his. Sniper reciprocated the kiss and put his hand on the Frenchman's cheek, on the soft fabric of his mask.

"Attends."

[Wait.]

Sniper stopped at once and looked at his lover, curious as to why he asked him to stop. Spy silently pointed at Perle and Hootsy. The owl was nested in the cat's fur and both were watching the two lovers from Sniper's desk.

"Perle… Tu ne m'aides pas là…"

[Perle, you are not helping…]

"Meow."

"Hootsy, you're putting us off mate…"

"Hoo."

Spy and Sniper looked at each other with a smile.

"Come with me, Sniper."

The Frenchman got off the bed, holding Sniper by the hand and went to the door.

"Perle, tu restes ici avec Hootsy et vous restez sage."

[Perle, you stay here with Hootsy and you two behave.]

"Hootsy…!"

Spy stuck his ear to the door.

"No one, let's go."

They quickly slipped out of Sniper's room and went to Spy's suite.

\-- **_Author's notes --_**

As always, thank you very much for reading and thank you, Deathtothecrows for your hard work editing this! :D

I hope you enjoyed this one! :D

Please let me know what you thought, it helps greatly :D

See you around for 19!


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